


DETACHED: JEAN-LUC: HIS STORY

by mabb5



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 65
Words: 204,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabb5/pseuds/mabb5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a major novel that is a sequel to the novel ATTACHED MEANT and the subsequent sequels found in the series DE-TACHED: LIFE WITH BEVERLY.  There are 6 different stories in that series.  You do not have to have read all of those stories in order to figure out what is going on with this one, though it would help.  </p><p>It is all about what happens to Jean-Luc at Starfleet Academy along with his family and friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is a continuation of the non-canon, a/u DE-TACHED series of stories which are the sequel to the novel ATTACHED MEANT. Though it is not necessary to have read all of those stories, a lot of the peripheral characters and plot lines would be easier to understand if you did.
> 
>  
> 
> At the end of ATTACHED MEANT, Jean-Luc and Beverly were married on board the Enterprise. Will Riker became the Enterprise’s new captain as both Jean-Luc and Beverly were promoted to the Admiralty. And just about everything that had happened after the episode “Attached” no longer applies.
> 
> The DE-TACHED series covers their life afterwards. After a long honeymoon, they returned to Earth to live in the house that Jean-Luc inherited from his wealthy Aunt Adele. Along the way they had twins – a boy named William Robert and a girl named Deanna Marie, better known as Billy Bob or Warp Speed and Anna. The twins, thanks to a little Q connivance and left over effects from the Kesprytt, have telepathic abilities more akin to Betazeds than to humans. As a result, the twins have a Betazed nanny named Ryllis, not to mention Lwaxanna Troi-Wiley as their godmother. Lwaxana is also married to the head of Starfleet, Winston Holt Wiley.
> 
> Jean-Luc is now the Superintendent of Starfleet Academy. His chief personal assistant is a no-nonsense cousin of Wiley named Mildred Krebs. Wesley Crusher graduated from the Academy and is researching at U.P. as well as working as an aide to Admiral Wiley. Will and Deanna have finally married and are expecting a baby of their own.
> 
> Beverly was the Rear-Admiral in charge of the new Federation hospital ship fleet. Their life together was everything that they had imagined, and what their friends had wished for them.
> 
> But Q had prophesized that Jean-Luc would divorce Beverly. And so Jean-Luc did…
> 
> Not that I have forgotten my P/C roots, but the course of true love cannot run smoothly all the time. I’ve basically had the plot to this novel in my head for more than fifteen years. It took me a while to realize that it would fit in with all the ATTACHED MEANT sequels. So never fear, lovers will end up in the arms for which they were destined. Just not right away for where would be the fun in that?
> 
> Oh, some of our VOYAGER friends will be showing up too, though this is primarily a TNG novel which is why I really did not list this as a crossover story.
> 
> Though at times intense, the sex, violence and language are not too explicit. So if you’re old enough to watch a James Bond film, you’re old enough to read my efforts.
> 
> As always, Please let me know what you think.  
> All the usual disclaimers apply. Paramount's property - but fandom's playground.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 1:

The Land of the Living

He wandered about the main room of the bedroom suite, trailing his fingertips over the navy velvet back of what had once been his favorite reading arm chair. He deliberately ignored looking to his left at their bed, even as he slowly walked around the room for the last time. Even now, after all this time - two years, eight months, two weeks and one day - there were just certain things that he could not force himself to face. 

Mentally sighing, and wishing with all of his heart that the servo cleaning bot had not been quite so diligent in keeping these rooms clean and tidy, he moved slowly toward the large closet cum dressing room that he had once   
shared - albeit it was a decidedly unequal sharing - with his wife. The twenty percent that had become his allotted space still was fairly full with items that he just could not bring himself to have moved to his new, replacement bedroom suite down the opposite end of the family floor corridor. These items had all hung in this closet, untouched for years. The pain of the ghosts that they could resurrect were still too devastating to his fragile psyche.

He stared at the worn grey robe. And then he chuckled to himself. “Ah, mon coeur, I am finally wearing a new robe…” But his words did not belie the bitterness and sorrowfulness that were his almost-constant companions.

He dared not look at her clothes.

Steeling himself, he entered the large bathroom and then opened the door to the linen closet. Taping a code into a security lock and then confirming his I.D. with a retina scan, a shelf moved aside and a door swung open revealing the interior of a safe. With great regret, he reached within and pulled out a tray containing all of the safe’s contents. On it was an open jewelry box. He was disconcerted to note that this tray at least, had some dust. The bot had not cleaned in the safe after all.

And then he was shocked to see his wife’s engagement ring. His granmere’s beautiful, antique sapphire ring surrounded by seed pearls and diamonds was in plain sight, resting on a ring stand.

He reacted to the pain that stabbed through his body as if the sight of the ring were a personal, physical assault.

I thought that she took it! I thought that she was wearing it when she left…

When the raw pain subsided a little, he picked the ring up and crushed it into his palm forcing the prongs to pierce his flesh. Finally, when this pain convinced him that the ring was real, he released the ring and placed it back. 

His eyes inspected the rest of the open tray. And then he saw even greater sorrow. Her platinum wedding band was threaded onto a fairly long platinum fine chain, laying on a corner of the tray. His brain froze. Impossible! And his heart broke again at the sight of the ring; wave after thundering wave of grief battered against the fragments of his desiccated albeit mechanical organ. 

He simply could not comprehend how these rings came to be here…

Of course, as a Starfleet Admiral on standard duty, no one - not even admirals - were supposed to wear personal jewelry. Usually his wife had her rings on a chain under her duty jacket in order to comply with this regulation…

He picked up the chain and was surprised to see the wedding band fall back onto the tray. And then he understood. She’d been in a rush that day. She must have broken the chain, and simply did not have the time or the inclination to have replicated a replacement...

Grimacing, he closed the lid to the box, held everything tightly against his breast, pivoted and then walked quickly out of the suite, forcing his eyes into looking straight forward.

Mildred was there, dressed in grey, standing in the middle of the long hall way. Her tired eyes took in his expression, and they reflected an echoing sadness. She could not offer him any comfort. He would never accept it from her - at least, not today.

“Put this in the vault,” he tersely commanded. He handed the box to her.

The lady who was Jean-Luc Picard’s private assistant and dear friend, nodded her acquiescence.

“Do it,” he ordered. And then he swiftly walked away without looking back.

Mildred didn’t need any further instructions. She waited until the admiral had gone out of sight down the far stairway before she tapped her com badge. “All right, Commander S’Rock. Send the moving teams and everybody else on up.”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred knocked on the golden oak archaic door and waited. And waited. Finally, she heard him utter the command to enter. She swung the door open and stepped inside.

He was seated behind an antique Provencal wood platte desk. There were many padds scattered or stacked on the desk. And in the half-power lighting of the room, she could see the glow of a view screen turned on. He was the very picture of a very busy man seated at work in his personal home office. And Mildred would bet every credit that she owned that he had not done a lick of work since he had entered this room five hours ago.

Without being asked, she plopped herself down onto the only empty chair in this small office. And then she had glanced about. It was too dark in here for her purposes. “Computer, lights eighty percent.”

She expected to hear an expletive, or at the very least be on the receiving end of one of his annoyed glares. Instead, he ignored her actions.

Her eyes widened as she observed what had captured his attention. For sitting on the bleached oak wood desk directly in front of him was a rectangular display box, holding many, many awards and medals.

Perhaps he had glanced at her and noted her observation, for then he spoke by way of explanation; almost distantly, as if the effort to move his lips was taxing the last of his strength. “Beverly’s medals.”

Mildred nodded, not even noticing a few stray tears that leaked onto her cheeks.

He made a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle - if it had been coming from anyone other than him. “I think that Beverly actually had more awards and commendations than I do. And considering how many times her superior officers put her on report…”

“They weren’t…,” Mildred interrupted.

“Weren’t what?”

“Her superiors, Jean-Luc.”

“Mildred, I put Beverly on report several times on board the Enterprise.”

“Like I said…”

This time the sound he made most definitely was a chuckle. 

And with this noise, Mildred began to relax.

He raised his head, and actually smiled for a nanosecond. “Where did you put her things?”

“Everything right now is in storage in the second sub-basement. I tried to label the boxes of stuff that I knew belonged to you, in case you want anything…” Her voice trailed off as she saw him wince as if the mere thought of things in storage was a source of more pain.

“No, I…” It looked to Mildred as if he had to physically push himself to continue to speak. “One day, Anna and William might wish to look at their mother’s things.” He stiffened. “Only after they are old enough to decide, will I consider donating…”

Mildred stood and leaned across the desk to lightly touch his hand. “Whatever you say, Jean-Luc.” She straightened and then forged onward. “You have to be here for breakfast in the morning,” she also announced, and correctly interpreted his questioning look. “Marie is coming to take the twins to LaBarre. I promised them that their new bedrooms would indeed be ready when they came back.”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

She bristled. “I really came in to tell you that the contractors say that the work of converting all the areas into two bedroom suites and playroom for the twins with an additional guest bedroom will take two weeks.” 

He harrumphed at that statement. For he knew all too well the habits of contractors that specialized in historic, old Arts and Crafts mansions like Picard House. “I’m sure that they specifically told you which two weeks…”

“Jean-Luc, do you think any contractor of sound mind would want to cross me - after the last incident?”

Not even Jean-Luc had the nerve to try and cross Mildred over any incident, so he just blindly shook his head. Then he looked at the antique figural bronze d’ore clock of Asteria, quietly ticking away on the bookcase to the right of him and asked, “The twins are in bed?”

“I’m sure that Ryllis has put them there by now, but I doubt that they are asleep.” Her voice softened, as if not to infer any criticism of his recent actions. “I’m sure that they would love to have their father come and say goodnight to them.”

An instinctive protest almost crossed his lips, but then he thought better of it. For he knew how often since the day that Beverly had disappeared, he had missed bedtime with Anna and William. “Yes, you are right. I’ll be up in a moment.”

Having won that concession from him, she nodded and slipped out of the room, well aware that his focus had returned to Beverly’s medals. A moment later she heard a drawer soundly shut. Smiling to herself, Mildred went to make sure that the twins would be awake when their Papa made his appearance.

It may be only by baby steps and teeny bounds, but Jean-Luc Picard was finally on his way back to the land of the living…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“I did as you requested,” the somewhat officious man reminded his client as he handed the man a padd. “Affix your thumbprint, and you will be officially and legally divorced from Beverly Howard Crusher Picard as of sixteen hundred hours of this day’s date.”

Jean-Luc Picard nodded slightly in numb acceptance, before he took the padd and pressed his thumbprint against it. 

It is done…

“Irreconcilable differences,” the attorney continued.

“We never had any,” Jean-Luc muttered to himself before he placed the padd on the glossy aluminum desk in this law office. Jean-Luc was not quite used to dealing with civilian lawyers. But in the matter of his marriage to Beverly, he did not wish to use a Starfleet lawyer for he was too well aware of all the gossip that had been circulating about his relationship with Beverly and the way that she had disappeared. And he wished to add no more fuel to that particular fire.

Rollin Hand, Esquire, handed the padd to an office bot to be filed away. The tall, gaunt, grey-haired man then pulled from an open desk drawer a bottle of Jameson’s pot still whiskey. He pulled out two cut crystal low ball glasses, and without bothering to ask, he poured a double shot into each. He shoved one glass toward his client. “Admiral Picard, off the record, I would like to ask you a question, if I may.”

Deciding that his need for the drink was greater than his annoyance over this man’s presumptiveness, Jean-Luc reached for the whiskey, and then muttered, “Ask.”

The elderly man sat back down, and took a sip of his liquid gold before proceeding. “Why?” He took another sip before he added, “The divorce.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jean-Luc stiffened as he put down his untouched drink.

“I’ve been a friend of Phillipa Louvois for years. She told me that the crew and passengers of the K’Tosh are going to be finally, legally, declared dead in four months.” The curious lawyer leaned back in his chair, observed this client finally taking a sip of his best and most expensive Irish whiskey, and waited.

It had been a long time since Jean-Luc Picard had tasted this quality of smooth Irish liquid. He savored it for a moment as if he was surprised by the superiority of it, and then, almost as if his thoughts were privately amusing, he explained. “A long time ago, a demi-god in his own mind prophesized a future life in which I would divorce Beverly. At the time I could not even imagine being married to Beverly Crusher much less being foolish enough to divorce the lady.” He took a longer sip before continuing. “Fates change. Now, I find that I would prefer to be divorced from my wife than to be legally declared a widower.” He put down his glass, and looked away, as if gazing at distant memory. “Call it a conceit of mine. In my mind, I know that Beverly is gone. But my soul cannot accept the cold finality of those words. So, I would rather be divorced.” He looked over at this man that he barely knew. And Jean-Luc saw understanding in the man’s expression. He chuckled aloud. This surprised the lawyer. “That same, semi-omnipotent god also predicted that one day Beverly and I would dance at our granddaughter’s wedding.” Jean-Luc finished his drink and stood. “On the off chance that this prediction might come to pass, I cannot in my heart refer to Beverly as ‘dead’…”

Rollin nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Occasionally, when I share a drink with her, Mildred has mentioned semi-omnipotent beings to me in the past. And how much of a pain in the ass they can be - especially when it comes to Federation legalities.”

Jean-Luc smiled. He wasn’t that surprised that this man would casually drop Mildred’s name. After all, it had been Mildred Krebs who had recommended this lawyer over the Picard family mandataire of Roche et Gaultier, to handle the finality of the marriage of Jean-Luc Picard to Beverly Howard Crusher Picard. Rollin Hand understood Federation legalities far better than those attorneys for Château Picard.

“Mr. Hand,” Jean-Luc extended his hand, “may I call upon you again when I have need for non-Starfleet legal expertise?”

“Of course, Admiral. It is an honor and a privilege to be of service to you.” The man shook the admiral’s hand. “And even if you have need of Starfleet expertise, my firm has several former JAG attorney officers.”

With a brief nod of acceptance, Jean-Luc walked out of the office finally accepting the necessity of having to start a brave, lonely, new life without Beverly.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Somehow Jean-Luc managed to survive. And create a semblance of a so-called ‘normal’ life. Not that the sorrow ever went away. The loss of Beverly when the Vulcan science ship upon which she had been travelling, the K’Tosh, inexplicably disappeared without a trace over three years ago, still was a dagger’s wound - a raw, ever-bleeding grievous injury - to his heart. With every breath he missed her. But there were his children. Anna and William were the main reason as to why he had never gone insane with his grief. His twins were his lifeline. His link to sanity…

 

#A.N. After you’ve stopped cursing me, there is a lot more to come. I have pretty much finished Jean-Luc’s half of the story entitled “His Story”. Then will come Beverly’s story labeled “Her Story” for this is not a ST version of “The Ghost and Mr. Muir…”. “Her Story” will be a separate novel I think since I am not quite in the category of writers such as Ke Roth or Princepen when it comes to writing epic opuses.


	2. Live a Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc dodges conniving women as he meets with Wesley for a beer.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 2:

LIVE A LITTLE

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Even though he was a very intelligent man, it took Jean-Luc a little while to discern the conspiracies that were swirling about him. 

The first inkling occurred during one of the many interminable admiralty conferences to which the head of the Academy was obligated to attend. He thought that it was merely a coincidence that recently, all of the subordinate officers delegated as his temporary personal assistants for these conferences, were all younger than him, highly intelligent, and drop-dead gorgeous - women who in a variety of ways from subtle to blatant, had made it obvious that they were ‘available’ for more ‘personal’ services. 

At first, he had a fleeting suspicion that it might have been Mildred who had been pushing these very accessible women into his conference flight path. But one night, at a formal dinner and conference with the head of Starfleet, Winston Holt-Wiley and his wife, Lwaxana Troi, it only took one seemingly idle question from Lwaxana about the attractiveness of a recent red-haired, energetic lieutenant that was currently assigned to him that gave Jean-Luc his first clue as to the possibility that Lwaxana might be a machinating matchmaker. At this moment, between the fish course being removed and the arrival of the uttaberry sorbet, it took every ounce of his adamantine control not to rant, rave and scream out loud, “NEVER!!!” Instead, he grabbed his goblet of white wine, and gulped it. Being a Betazed, Lwaxana got the gist of his psychic displeasure over their palate cleanser. And she acquiesced to his silent command - at least momentarily.

Jean-Luc should have known though, after many years of associating with the lady who was also godmother to his daughter, that Lwaxana would never give up.

Neither would Mildred.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Much to his consternation, Jean-Luc Picard began to finally notice additional things. Things he had never imagined that he would ever want to notice again. And then there were the physical feelings that he had never, ever wanted to conjure up again. But when the heart is so frozen that any conscious thought of being lonely could agonize it; even the slightest amatory inclination would result in nothing but more pain…

Sex. 

Jean-Luc had not really consciously, deliberately thought about the physical act of love in the years since Beverly’s disappearance. And for four years now, his body had acquiesced to his grief’s domination of his physicality. But now, it took only a sudden, unbidden thought to annoyingly arouse long dormant sexual needs. 

At first, all it took was the odd whiff of a pheromone from one of the Orion cadets as they would walk by him on their way to class. This he automatically ignored even if his body was not quite inclined to do so.

And then there were the women, especially the runners who occasionally were seen during his daily early morning jogs. He had always been an ass man since boyhood, and every now and then his subconscious would mindlessly notice an attractive pair of buttocks in skin hugging shorts passing him by on the track, before he could mentally prevent himself from doing so. Always he chastised himself for noticing such things to no avail.

Jean-Luc didn’t need to speak to his grief counselor to know what was beginning to happen to him. After so many decades of command isolation, it had been Beverly who had brought the warmth of love and living to his heart. And even though he could not contemplate anyone else even attempting to take Beverly’s place in his heart, his body and his soul ached for the kind of tenderness and compassion that Beverly had brought to his life with their marriage. He missed adult companionship. He missed personal, intimate conversations. He missed the shared experience of the marriage bed. He now truly knew the extent of his loss from what he had once shared with Beverly. He was a most lonely man indeed.

And if he was willing to acknowledge the rightness of Deanna Troi’s occasional too-close-to-home observations, his body and his soul were now demanding that he do something about it, independent of his consciousness.

There were many others who had come to this same conclusion about his lack of a love life as well. And they were determined to do something about it; to help him regardless of his wishes. So a group of determined ladies, not necessarily conspiring together but all of like minds, were determined to find Jean-Luc Picard a girl friend, preferably as a lover. It was time Jean-Luc Picard started to live a little. Or a lot if they picked the right woman.

One evening a few weeks later, at a marvelous dinner party at Château Picard with the Picard family and some of their friends, Jean-Luc realized that the lady sitting next to him, had been deliberately maneuvered into that position by not just Marie, but Robert as well. Laure LaCroix was a charming, sophisticated, handsome woman of an age possibly only a few years younger than his own. She had enchanted him with a dry wit and a cynical grasp of Federation politics that mirrored his own viewpoint, within the first thirty minutes of drinking wine and of conversing with him on the terrasse jardin. She amused him with tales of the antics of her twin grandchildren who were approaching the exalted age of eight. Finally he had someone with which to compare notes about the joys and problems of having twins in their lives. It took him a bit longer to learn that the lady was a widow - and a neighbor to the Picard vineyard who just so happened to own a very desirable vineyard of her very own. Hence Robert’s helpfulness with Marie’s plotting. Jean-Luc still enjoyed the remainder of the dinner, but there was part of him that was uncomfortable about it all. Especially the part where he had found amusement with the lady’s company. 

He still felt guilty…

And he did not call Laure back, after her few attempts to communicate with him at the Academy. And he felt guilty about that too, since there was a part of him that had fleetingly considered contacting the lady again…

A few weeks later, matters sort of came to a boiling point. He had been assigned to attend yet another admiralty conference in a month’s time according to the padd that Mildred had just handed him in his office. He sat down, perused the details of the padd and grimaced.

This time, the admiral’s conference was being held on Risa. And Jean-Luc did not wish to go for the last time he had been on Risa he had been with Beverly, and there was no way he could attend a conference on that planet with those beloved memories of Beverly in the forefront of his mind…

His mind was made up for him when he noticed as he scrolled down the padd and saw the conference attendee’s list which included the name of Commander Nella Darren… 

He raised his eyes and watched Mildred as she went about officiously doing whatever it is that she does when the lady was trying to ignore him. It was only a slight stiffening as he attempted to wither her with his best glare, that gave Mildred away to him. She had known about the existence of Nella Darren’s name on the list. Which meant that she had probably even arranged Commander Darren’s attendance possibly with the cooperation of the head of Starfleet himself. And he did not doubt in the slightest that Lwaxana had stuck her nose into all of this somehow.

This incident finally convinced Admiral Jean-Luc Picard that his friends and family really were conspiring against him. 

Still glaring at Mildred, all he said to the lady was an emphatic, “No.”

“What, Boss?” She was as unperturbed as ever.

Jean-Luc’s eyes narrowed. Mildred never called him ‘Boss’ unless she was making some sort of obtuse point.

“I must skip this conference. I already have scheduled plans for those dates.”

“Not according to your calendar,” Mildred quickly countered, as she considered bringing out some of her big guns to force him to attend the conference.

“I must have neglected to mention to you that I am going to the Academy graduate pilot training field at SB 42 at that time. I have yet to inspect it. It is time that I do so. And I have been reading some very interesting reports about their anti-Breen tactics as well…”

“Sure, Boss,” Mildred muttered. She knew that if she specifically asked ‘what reports?’, he would find some ‘interesting reports’ somewhere that would justify his going that far out into the quadrant. But she wasn’t quite ready to concede this round to him, just yet. She always had a long list of contingency plans. Plan ‘B’ was next. 

“You taking your admiral’s yacht or what?” Her voice sounded innocent. Her intent was not.

The logical response was to say that he was taking a Starfleet cadet training cruise ship to the star base. He could easily command the services of such a ship. But if he did that then Mildred would also learn that he had arranged such a cruise after the fact about being told about the Risa conference. Jean-Luc was not inclined to give Mildred that kind of one-upmanship chip in the eternal game that he played with this domineering lady.

“I was planning on using my yacht. I haven’t flown the Ursula LeGuin in years.”

“By yourself?”

“Of course.” He snatched a quick breath even as he more quickly considered her countermoves.

She interrupted him. “Sure you can still pilot her?”

This time there was no misinterpreting the look that he bestowed upon his friend and personal assistant.

Mildred’s response was to sit on the crystalline framed Starfleet blue leather upholstered sofa in his office, and pretend to ignore his reaction.

“I have kept my piloting credentials current,” he too-curtly informed the lady even as he took refuge behind a replicated cup of hot tea.

“Just sayin’…”

“What?” he barked back.

“You like being alone too much.”

“I do not like it! But that is the way it must be…” His voice trailed off as he realized what he just might have inadvertently admitted out loud to Mildred.

Mildred knew then that Guinan’s ‘Baldie’ was determined to go alone on this voyage. But that he also realized that he did have a problem. It was up to her - with a little help - to upset his current path of continued self-isolation.

She stood, straightened out the skirt to her moiré lavender suit, and nodded as if in agreement. She eyed her pearl necklace on her upper bosom just to make sure it was draped exactly where it was supposed to be. It was, of course.

“Okay, Boss.” She pivoted and walked away.

“Let Lwaxana know,” Jean-Luc grumbled at the retreating back to the lady as she left his office, who was in theory supposed to be working for him.

“Oh, I will,” Mildred countered as she departed the inner sanctum.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It wasn’t that often that Lieutenant Commander Wesley Crusher invited his stepfather out for a drink after work. Oh, Jean-Luc saw Wesley regularly for the young man tried to visit with Anna and William at least once a week, schedule permitting. And Jean-Luc was very appreciative of Wesley’s efforts on behalf of his brother and sister. Wesley always made sure to be there for his siblings.

But Jean-Luc had to admit to himself that he missed the young man’s presence in his life. For ever since Beverly had disappeared, Wesley had rarely availed himself of sleeping in his bedroom suite at Picard House. So he was pleased that Wesley had extended the invitation. What surprised him was that Wesley asked to meet him at a bar that was decidedly off the beaten path for most Starfleet officers - especially a Lieutenant Commander who was part of Winston Holt Wiley’s personal staff. The Rogue’s Ale was more of a civilian sort of restaurant and microbrewery than a place where the upper echelons of Starfleet Command would meet. Still, seated at a table toward the back of this tourist filled room, Jean-Luc felt comfortable enough to enjoy his specialty draft beer.

Wesley chuckled as he observed his stepfather drinking his beer.

“What, Wesley?” Jean-Luc had noticed the Boy’s reaction as he sat down, wearing civilian clothes as well, and holding a stein in his hand.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you would order a beer…”

“When in Rome, Wesley...”

Wesley nodded. In a bar filled with micro brews, one should order a beer and not a burgundy.

Jean-Luc chuckled. “Besides, Wesley, I do like a good ale now and then…”

“But Jean-Luc, you usually drank wine when Captain Riker was offering beer at the poker game.”

“That was primarily to annoy Will Riker, Wesley. I have no objection to a good Romulan Ale. But anything that would disconcert Will Riker during a poker game, always gives me an edge against the man - especially if he is wondering if the wine he was offering passed muster with an oenophile like me. I usually implied that it did not.” Jean-Luc’s smile hinted at past victories.

Wesley understood such subtleties of playing cutthroat poker especially amongst Admiral Wiley’s ‘admiral’s round-up’ exclusive poker games. One of the primary reasons as to why Wiley had politely ‘suggested’ that Wesley come work for him after he had graduated from the Academy was because of the young man’s poker playing skills. What had really surprised Wesley though, was that he actually liked working for the Fleet Admiral. He still had time to do research and design at Utopia Planetia, besides working for the admiral as well.

Jean-Luc appreciated his drink and then put down his stein on the table. “So, what did you wish to discuss, Wesley?”

Wesley nodded, knowing that Jean-Luc was far too perceptive a man to assume that this was just a familial get-together.

“Lwaxana and Mildred.” Wesley tried to sound very commonplace about the warning.

“Oh.” Jean-Luc nodded comprehending Wesley’s concern. “I see. Their matchmaking attempts.”

“I am not surprised that you noticed.” Wesley added, “Even though they are very devious ladies.”

“I would never underestimate either lady.”

“Together they are positively dangerous,” Wesley advised.

“Trust me, Wesley. I am well aware of my precarious position. Even more so especially if Guinan arrives unannounced.” He took a sip of his ale, thought for a moment and then he asked with a casualness that masked his own, sudden uncertainty as another thought crossed his mind. “And if any of those ladies including Ryllis or Bronislawa - succeeds?”

Puzzled, Wesley put down his ale. “Meaning?”

“What if I do form an acquaintanceship, an association as it were, with a lady? How would you feel about it?”

Wesley thought about it for a while before finally answering. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not she is just a friend, or someone who is about to become a more permanent part of our family.” He looked away for a moment. “If it is casual I really don’t need to learn anything more about the relationship. We all have our ‘friendships’.” He eyed Jean-Luc wondering if he would really have to explain what this meant.

Jean-Luc slightly nodded. If his cheeks reddened a bit, it was impossible to detect in the lowered lighting of the bar. “My last ‘friendship’ was long before your mother, Wesley… On board the D.”

In spite of Wesley’s years of experience with Winston Holt Wiley as well as dealing with contentious admirals, bickering senators, inscrutable Vulcans, bellicose Klingons and whining ambassadors - not to mention his being the favorite dogs body of Lwaxana - he was a bit chagrinned at having this conversation with a man that he still idolized in his heart-of-hearts. And it showed in his expression.

Jean-Luc hid his smile.

Wesley bravely continued. “I know that Anna and Will miss their mother…” Wesley hesitated a moment before adding, “They… need a mother…”

Jean-Luc intuited Wesley’s concerns. For he had such concerns as well when he was thinking rationally about his twins. 

“I don’t disagree, Wesley.” Jean-Luc took a deep drink of his ale and then waved in the direction of a waiter for two more steins before he continued. “The problem is how to find a lady with whom I can live. You know what I felt and how I felt about your mother. I really have no wish to replace her with an inferior substitute.”

“I just want my Mom back,” Wesley quickly stated, before he picked up the second stein of ale that the waiter had just delivered. “But that is never going to happen, is it, Jean-Luc?”

Sadly he agreed with his stepson. “Even Anna and William’s fairy godfather has looked for Beverly and could not find her. Beverly is not coming back.” Jean-Luc felt a frisson of surprise that he had spoken these words out loud. It was really the first time that he had done so. And that he finally, really believed it to be so.

“I know Q was looking for Mom. Anna asked him to do so a long time ago. I’ve always been looking too, to no avail.” He finished off his ale. And then decided that Jean-Luc did need a little encouragement from him if only for his sibling’s sake. “If you find someone acceptable, you should consider my brother and sister’s needs - if only for their sakes.” Wesley stood and straightened out his brown civilian jacket. “I just really wanted to warn you about the matchmaking cabal. Just in case you were not really paying attention to their machinations.”

“Thank you for your concern, Wesley. I may be oblivious on occasion, but I was never so obtuse that I would not have noticed Lwaxana’s manipulations.” 

Wesley grinned. “Lwaxana erroneously thinks that she knows the meaning of the word ‘subtlety’.”

Jean-Luc laughed as he accepted this observation, stood and extended his hand toward his stepson. He was touched that Wesley was personally concerned about him. “Come to dinner on Sunday?”

“If I can get Winnie to let me off, I will.”

“In that case, Wesley, always ask permission from Lwaxana first. The head of Starfleet won’t dare say ‘no’ to his wife.”

“Admiral Wiley has a pretty good survivor’s instinct when it comes to Lwaxana,” Wesley agreed.

“They are still married after all for more than four years.” Jean-Luc ruefully grinned as he added, “I had bet that their marriage would not last more than two years in Mr. Data’s betting pool…”

A.N. A lot more to come.


	3. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend surfaces at the Academy.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

 

Chapter 3:

Second Chances

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Admiral Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway grumbled to herself. It was all that she could do, given the circumstances. Her ‘perfect officer’s smile’ was firmly affixed to her lips as she shook the hand of yet another officer congratulating her on her promotion to rear admiral.

For a second, she raised her eyes skyward, inwardly still thrilled that she was breathing fresh air in spite of having only been home for almost eight months now. It was a gorgeous day at Starfleet Academy. The sky was a beautiful ultramarine blue with the kind of puffy white marshmallow clouds skittering about of which she used to dream when she was on Voyager. Day-dreaming of home during those darkest of hours when her insomnia was in full force had been one of her lifelines. 

In the distance the rose gardens that flanked the assembly quad were in full, early-summer fragrant bloom. The Voyagers, along with the Admiralty, her friends, fellow officers and family were all assembled for her honor. And now they had formed a very long receiving line to shake her hand after the completion of her promotion ceremony.

This promotion ceremony was being held at the Academy by the request of the Admiralty. Even though it was her promotion, Kathryn Janeway had little say in the proceedings. The Admiralty Department of Public Relations had commandeered every detail as soon as the possibility of her promotion became a reality. Glowing publicity for the Starfleet heroine of the Delta Quadrant was the order of their day.

Kathryn Janeway disregarded all of it, even though she knew that such trimmings went with her new job. Such things would never be to her taste, though she did have to privately admit that previously, such publicity had helped sway the public and then the Admiralty when it came to the Maquis. Any question about the Maquis ‘problem’ was quickly resolved when the public, the Federation Council and finally Admiral Winston Holt Wiley had greeted all the Voyagers including the Maquis, as heroes and members of Starfleet rather than as rebels and traitors.

Though now as she considered the possibility that her lips were going to crack from the stress of her constant smiling, Kathryn Janeway wondered why she had ever said ‘yes’ to the promotion. 

A man stepped up behind her, and with a familiarity born out of a long time friendship, leaned toward the back of her neck. “Courage…”, a baritone voice whispered into her ear. 

“And this too shall pass?” she countered as she turned to briefly hug her dear old friend Admiral Jean-Luc Picard.

“Who would have ever thought that when I commandeered an impossibly young science officer from the Mary Kingsley that we both would have ended standing up here?” He glanced down at the admiral’s bar on her dress uniform that was identical to his own.

“I can even remember saying I’d be an admiral before you,” she teased, “on board the Cleopatra’s Needle.” She stepped back a moment from the receiving line, her eyes darkening with memories. “Years later, one of my life’s regrets is that I did not accept your offer to join you on the Enterprise. That would have been an epic adventure indeed.”

“As opposed to the Delta Quadrant?” There was a rather skeptical, dry note to his query.

She laughed. It was a bright, happy sound. And he joined in matching her ebullience. A few journalists were lucky enough to get pictures of the famed head of the Starfleet Academy actually laughing, since this man had a reputation for aloofness as commandant that far exceeded the reality of Jean-Luc Picard’s personality.

“We talked of many things during those long months on board the Cleopatra,” he answered back, still laughing. “Our career ambitions were amongst the topics of conversation during those dull, long months of voyage on board the Cleopatra’s Needle as I recall. Anyway, because of your refusal of my most generous offer, I was forced to choose Will Riker as my Number One instead. And I even lost a bet to Will Riker because of you.”

She gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “You! Bet-ting?”

“Surely even you know by now that all of us former starship captains have placed an occasional wager now and then.” He leaned even closer and whispered, “Will bet that I would become an admiral before you. I bet against him, much to my chagrin.” He placed a hand against her back. “There will always be a bottle of Jamesons’ in my desk whenever you care to visit.” He nodded toward the patiently waiting receiving line. “Duty time, Admiral Janeway.” And then he slightly shoved her toward the patiently waiting line. For no one in that line really wanted to interrupt a discussion between two legendary, and now rather powerful admirals.

A few seats back and away from the receiving line, a little girl with bright red hair, watched her father and the lady admiral. Then she reached up and grabbed her nanny’s hand, pulling herself up to whisper, “Ryllis! She made Papa laugh!’

=/\= =/\= =/\=

They were at the end of the receiving line of course. Most of the attendees to the promotion ceremony had already removed themselves to the refreshment tents. The lure of free food and alcoholic drink was a universal constant that had survived the ages. 

Admiral Janeway knew she was just about done as well as done in by everything. All she really wanted at the moment was peace, quiet and an espresso-strength double-size cup of coffee.

Then she saw them; Captain Chakotay and his bride of three months, Annika Hansen. He was as handsome as ever, though there was a slight crinkling of worry about his eyes. Seven however, was stunningly beautiful wearing a skin tight silver sheath and short red jacket. He stepped toward the admiral and nodded. Numbly she accepted Chakotay’s perfunctory congratulations, duly observing that he did not really look directly at her. 

“You got what you wanted, Admiral,” was all that he quietly stated with a bitter undertone that took Kathryn by surprise. He did not shake her hand.

“Did I?” she mumbled almost to herself. The expression on Seven’s face told her that the former Borg and bride had heard her comment anyway.

“I did too,” Annika coolly affirmed, as she shook the admiral’s hand.

“Oh?” was the only thing that Kathryn could think of saying next.

“Chakotay and I are going to have a baby,” the Borg announced, as if she wanted to tell every person that she met such astonishing news. Seven automatically caught the very brief look of anguish that crossed over her former mentor’s face at this proclamation. Chakotay did not notice Kathryn’s reaction. But Annika had become human enough to relish her little victory over the woman who had once been her captain. She was the woman who was bearing Chakotay’s child - not Captain Janeway.

“I am glad.” The cool, imperturbable Kathryn Janeway was in full control of her emotions now, even though something wicked twisted about her heart. How the former starship captain would react in private, was another matter entirely.

Chakotay could not doubt the lady’s sincerity. Kathryn really meant her congratulations and he knew it - in spite of everything that had passed between them.

Even though she responded almost as if she were in physical pain, she reached over and patted her former first officer’s chest; an almost instinctual, habitual reaction to his news. “You have always wanted children, Chakotay. I am very happy for you.”

This time he did study her and he saw the strain on her face that she could not completely disguise. He knew that he was partially responsible for the pain being there. And he tried to shake off the instinctive guilt even as he spoke trying to remember that she still was his best friend. With genuineness that belied his earlier reaction, he responded, “Thank you, Kathryn. I…”

Annika interrupted her husband. “We must go, husband. I am sure that there is still much more that our admiral must do today.” She started pulling a reluctant husband away from the lady.

“I’ll call you,” was all that Chakotay said as he walked away.

Kathryn sighed, knowing that he had promised to do so before. And perhaps one day he actually would do so. Not that she really would want to accept his personal call, now.

A moment later the newly-minted admiral was hustled by her staff toward the tent where the reporters were waiting for her. One of her new personal assistants had enough savvy to hand her new boss a large mug of strong, black coffee. Kathryn appreciated the ensign’s thoughtfulness. And smarts.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred eyed the proceedings from her vantage point inside the main tent. Jean-Luc Picard’s personal chef Ludvig who had once been the captain’s chef on board the Enterprise and was now working at Picard House, had prepared the refreshments for Admiral Janeway’s ceremony. That fact, just by itself, was enough to interest this lady greatly, for the only other times that Jean-Luc loaned Ludvig for an Admiralty function had been when it concerned officers from the Enterprise D. Though Mildred Krebs had known that Admiral Picard knew Kathryn Janeway, she had not realized the depth of their friendship.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Turning, she nodded at Captain Chakotay, and simply said, “Yes?” For a heartbeat she glared at him as if she objected to his disturbing her, and then more politely added, “Captain Chakotay?”

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Mrs. Krebs.” He had just the right conciliatory tone to his voice.

Mildred nodded, recognizing that in spite of this former Maquis’ reputation, he was a smart man.

“I was wondering about Admiral Picard’s children.”

“Yes?” Her tone was decidedly a bit more frosty now, for she was always protective of her godchildren.

“Their mother was Beverly Howard? I missed a lot when I was… away.”

Mildred blinked for a moment trying to discern the purpose behind this question, before answering him. “Yes. Beverly was their mother and Admiral Picard’s wife.”

Chakotay slowly nodded as if reluctantly accepting this fact. “I am sorry for their loss then. She was a remarkable woman.” He looked skyward for a moment as if sending up a silent prayer before continuing. “Beverly was an old friend from the Academy. She was a major thorn in the side of a tactical instructor that she thought was too arrogant.…”

Mildred could believe the ‘arrogant’ moniker for this man. She’d read quite a bit about Captain Chakotay over the past few months, including all the top secret documents which most of the Admiralty did not even know existed much less had the clearance to read concerning Voyager.

“Yes, Beverly knew how to aggravate her commanding officers.” She briefly remembered an incident and what Beverly had done to her favorite admirals. “Your point being, Captain?”

He nodded in the direction of the twins. “If they ever need any help, please ask me. I owe their mother. She was very dear to me…”

Mildred slowly acknowledged his statement, sensing only concern and perhaps a bit of guilt from this contradiction of a Starfleet officer. “An old… friend?”

She barely caught his brief nod.

“Chakotay…” A commanding voice pierced the air.

“Your wife calls,” Mildred mildly observed wondering how such a man who seemed to be very spiritual and humane, could have possibly married a woman with an almost monochromatic personality belonging to this restrictive, former Borg.


	4. Academy Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc goes on an inspection tour

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 4:

Academy Business

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Not that he would willingly admit it out loud to another soul, but Admiral Jean-Luc Picard was having fun. The first two days of his flight to SB42 and their training grounds, was the kind of experience in space piloting that he had not truly enjoyed since a few occasions quite a few years ago, on board the Enterprise D. He put his admiral’s yacht, the Ursula LeGuin through her paces more than once. And he enjoyed performing every maneuver. 

But there were quiet times too, when he would stare mindlessly at the view screen and watch the stars go by, wondering which glowing light might hold a clue as to what had happened to Beverly, not that he was anywhere near the location from where the K’Tosh had disappeared. Still, there was a part of him that just wanted to keep going into the infinite blackness toward those lights; to keep on forever searching until his dilithium crystals blackened and cracked… 

Eventually, reality caught up with him in the seventieth hour of his journey. He rendezvoused with a cadet training ship, the Gregory ‘Pappy’ Boyington. He docked his admiral’s yacht in the shuttle bay, and donned his personal Starfleet Academy Commandant mode as he greeted the captain and the man’s senior staff. Then he monitored and occasionally participated in five days of training fleet exercises, watching flight training and observing the single fighter ships doing tactical maneuvers beyond SB 42.

Admiral Picard was impressed by the demonstrations and exercises of both the cadets and those officers who were in the advanced officer fighter pilot training. He approached the Boyington’s captain, a Captain Enkidu who was an old friend.

“Their grasp of innovative tactics have improved considerably,” Jean-Luc observed as he sipped Earl Grey in the captain’s ready room. Captain Enkidu was an officer whose path had crossed Captain Picard’s more than once over the past forty years. He was a short, somewhat rounded, dark hued man only a few years younger than Admiral Picard. Captain Enkidu’s brilliant white teeth only became more visible as he contemplated his old friend before he drank his macchiato seated behind his captain’s desk. 

“That is because there is a new, hotshot advanced tactical instructor, Jean-Luc. Once he got out into this here hinterlands that captain really went to work on teaching the advanced pilots how to become top gun pilots and work together as a team. He was able to teach the officers and cadets how to think up ‘unorthodox’ tactics’ if the by-the-book stuff doesn’t work.”

With the familiarity of a long friendship, Jean-Luc opined, “You’re grinning, Enki. So why do I think that this new exceptional instructor is a former Maquis officer promoted to Starfleet captain?”

Captain Enkidu kept on flashing his pearly whites. “Captain Chakotay.” He took his good old time before he finally confirmed it.

Admiral Picard nodded in contemplation as he slowly savored his tea. “I am not that surprised. I’ve read the Voyager official logs. That is the primary reason as to why I offered Captain Chakotay the teaching position. Brilliant, unusual tactics were oftentimes the only reason Voyager survived when they were out-gunned and facing destruction in the Delta Quadrant. And Captain Chakotay invented those tactic on more than quite a few occasions.”

“Hmmm… What I’d really like to see is a Chakotay versus Riker tactical starship battle…”

Jean-Luc laughed out loud at this suggestion. “I’d put my money on my former Number One of course, but I do believe that I would have a fifty percent chance of losing…”

Enki sniggered at that possibility. 

“We really could have used officers of Captain Chakotay’s mindset during the Dominion War,” observed the ship’s captain. He glanced out toward the stars streaming by his large portal as if remembering prior battles. “It took a bit of doing to convince some stiff shirt officers that a former Maquis who had survived the Delta Quadrant might actually know a thing or two that they had never imagined. And that he should be the one to teach it. But eventually all of my naysayers seem to have come around after they have read my preliminary reports.” He nodded toward the stars. “And once those newly minted ensigns and black pipped lieutenants get assigned to deep space ships, quite a few more starship captains are going to be surprised.”

“Good. In a short while I am going to be unleashing the man at the Academy, in spite of his being scrutinized by a lot of prying Admiralty eyes. From what you know of Chakotay, do you think he is up to it?”

“From what I’ve learned about Chakotay as a man and an instructor, he can do it. However he can only be pushed so far.”

“In other words, Enki, it might be wise to involve Admiral Janeway? At least unofficially?”

“A good idea, Jean-Luc. I have read some of those official Voyager logs too. Janeway and Chakotay had a somewhat, uh, unique relationship. And friendship.” He took another sip of his coffee, as his mind darted now on to other thoughts. “Remember your senior Gaudeamus?”

Jean-Luc visibly shuddered. “I think that was the worst hangover that I have ever suffered in my life. Mainly due in part to a certain cheeky second year cadet who seemed determined to drink me under the table with every glass…”

“I didn’t force you to chug those shots, Jean-Luc.”

“No. My foolish juvenile pride unfortunately dictated otherwise,” Jean-Luc acerbically replied. “I’ve matured, I think, since then.” He eyed his friend. “Have you?”

Enki’s response was still rather cheeky. “Yes. Starfleet thinks so at any rate. So, do you want me to throw you a rowdy captain’s mess? I owe you. You’re entitled. We could do it on SB42 if you wish. That way there would be enough space for all the officers and sycophants who would want to attend. And there would be plenty of room under the tables…”

Jean-Luc inwardly shuddered at this possibility. “Enki, I take it that you never saw Riker’s bootleg copies of the vids from the first Christmas party that I ever threw as an admiral. It is not every day that the Fleet Admiral of Starfleet starts a food fight.” He shuddered again recalling certain images that would remain stuck in his memory for the rest of his life. “Instead, let’s just you and I have dinner. That way, there would be no witnesses in case you do something untoward.” 

Enki laughed out loud.

“You mean yourself, don’t you?”

Jean-Luc ignored that remark. “Then I should be on my way after I stop at SB 42 for a brief visit, for the Academy Commandant can only play hooky for so long. You wouldn’t believe the mountain of padds that I know I will find on my desk when I return.” Jean-Luc smiled softly before he added, “Besides, I miss my children.”

“Jean-Luc, I bet that you sub space chatter them every day…”

“If I don’t call them, they call me. Cheeky brats.”

“I have always been fond of ‘cheeky’, Jean-Luc.” He finished off his coffee. “Ah, the sainted heirs. Last time I saw them they were at the constantly squalling stage. Have they stopped squalling? Do they fly their own shuttlecraft yet? Tell me all about them…”


	5. Friends Old or Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc takes shoreleave on a Starbase.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 5

Friends, Old or Dear:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

No one could tell by the admiral’s expression that she was upset. Everything about her looked professional, in spite of the fact that she was mentally cataloguing various painful ways for which she would like to commit mayhem on Annika Hansen. Kathryn Janeway had forgiven or forgotten a great many distressing personal attacks about her for decades as an officer. But her recent encounter with Annika Hansen had really set her nerves on edge. The former Borg seemed to think that Kathryn was still a rival for Chakotay’s affections. Apparently Annika had yet to realize that Chakotay had made his choice. And that choice was not Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway. Admiral Janeway could only assume that the reason behind Seven’s vitriolic nastiness toward her was because the former Borg was pregnant and her hormones were playing havoc with her emotional stability.

Admiral Janeway wandered about the promenade that housed the shops and theaters on SB 42. SB 42 was an old star base, jury-rigged and expanded like a giant tinker toy built by a succession of engineers who were on some sort of questionable substance, or who were under the influence from imbibing the local, highly illegal jubquat juice. When she had been a lieutenant and on shore leave here with her late fiancée Justin, they both had come to the conclusion that there were parts of the space station and base that were not located on any official blue prints. Subsequent visits had never changed her mind. Which was why she usually enjoyed coming to this particular star base. You never knew what you would find around an acute arched darkened corridor. 

Still, if it weren’t for the circumstances, she might have enjoyed a short reprieve on 42.

Admiral Janeway had not wanted to come to SB 42 to inspect the facilities and to do an overview of the flight training school’s reports of their preliminary maneuvers results. Not to mention a formal evaluation of her former First Officer. This first assignment as an admiral had to brought her to this place where Chakotay and Annika now resided. She silently railed at the unfairness of the fates. She was trying to squash down the hurts that the Chakotay and Seven marriage had emotionally inflicted on her battered soul. The last thing she wanted or needed was to have her face rubbed in their connubial bliss.

The depression that had threatened when Kathryn Janeway had first learned of Chakotay’s association with Seven, and after seeing him stand next to her instead of by her captain’s chair when Voyager entered Earth’s orbit for the first time in over seven years, reared its ugly head again. So Kathryn Janeway imprudently decided that she needed a stiff drink. Preferably Irish whiskey. Pot still if possible. The real thing. None of that unsatisfying syntheholic stuff would do this night as she walked toward her hotel room in the star base to change out of her still unfamiliar and uncomfortable admiral’s uniform, mentally cursing to the rhythm of her determined strides over the foolish longings of her heart.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The last person Admiral Janeway expected to find waiting for her was Captain Chakotay pacing about the symmetrical, formal grey and gold elegance of the hotel lobby which proclaimed with a discrete refinement that this was a hotel that hosted very important people.

“Kathryn.”

“Captain.” 

He mentally shuddered at the frigidity of her greeting as well as from the ‘professional’ smile that graced her lips. But he persevered. Kathryn’s defensive shields were clearly at maximum setting. But he knew ways around them. There were certain things that the Kathryn that he knew too well would never refuse. 

“May I buy you a cup of coffee?”

For a nano-second she grimaced resenting his tactic, but she knew him too well too. He had other tricks up the sleeves of his brown civilian flight jacket if she turned down his first move. He wanted peace between them. So after thinking it over for a moment, she then nodded, ruefully accepting his offer with a faint smile. 

“No fair, Chakotay. How can I stay angry with you if you play the ‘fresh cup of real coffee’ card?”

“Because it usually works so well with you, Kathryn.”

With that, she permitted him to escort her to the closest raktajino shop where he ordered a Bajoran spice tea, and she ordered a black, double strong coffee.

After they were settled at a tiny, nearly clean table, she warily eyed him. He clearly was uneasy about something. She didn’t choose to guess.

“So, Chakotay…”

He took a very deep breath before speaking. And then another. “I just wanted to apologize for Annika. Ever since our doctor removed the Borg emotions chip… and what with her pregnancy and some nanite complications…” He saw the alarmed expression cross his former captain’s face at this information, so he spoke very quickly to correct her mistaken impression. “No, no. Annika is all right. Our EMH just has to monitor her.” On Kathryn’s relieved expression, he continued confessing. “Anyway, Annika has become a bit paranoid about a lot of things.” He took a needed long draught of his slightly too-hot tea and added, “A great many things… Actually, it is just about everything now and then that makes her fearful. Upset…”

“Most notably about me,” Kathryn observed as she took a sip of her most acceptable brew 

“Starfleet comes in as a close second on her list of worries. They want her. She just refuses to believe everything that they are revealing to her about why they actually want her.” He sighed. To Kathryn it sounded like he was rather close to exhaustion. “I don’t know what to believe, Kathryn. I do not really know if I can trust this revised version of Starfleet compared to the one that I used to know.”

Kathryn nodded and then considered what he had revealed. “Neither do I, as well. Sev… er, Annika should stay a civilian consultant until things become… clarified. With documented specifics.” Then his former captain reached over and briefly rested her hand on top of the hand of her former first officer. “Of course, I will do my very best to protect her. So will Owen Paris.”

He accepted her statements as truth. “I know.”

She squeezed his hand again, in reassurance. “I really did mean what I said at my promotion ceremony, Chakotay. I am glad for you and Annika about the baby.”

“I know. If things had been different…” He saw the expression on her face, and recognized that he did not dare finish that sentiment. He had not realized how much he could still unintentionally hurt Kathryn Janeway. 

He had not thought that she still cared…

“Now tell me, Chakotay, what did you mean by Seven having her Borg emotions’ chip removed…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Twenty minutes later she just had to leave him. Her strength for pretending that all was well with her had just reached its limit. One more throw-away reference to their honeymoon on Dorvan, one more innocuous comment about the newlywed’s everyday life as husband and wife - it would have been just one phrase too many. She just simply knew that she would then explode and become a whirlwind’s virago of fury and grief attacking him. So she invented a subspace conference call that she had to attend and left behind a somewhat befuddled Captain Chakotay in her wake.

Forty minutes later, she wore a simple black dress as she left the hotel. It wasn’t a blatant, sexy black dress. But she knew that she looked good in it especially considering that she had reached the big four-oh a few years back. She threw a vibrant ruby embroidered shawl that she’d bought at a bazaar on a Delta Quadrant out post, over her shoulders. She was restless tonight, and walking about the star base was one way to distract her mind from the emotional mess that her strict, foolish adherence to protocols had created.

About half an hour later she found herself perched on a corner stool inside a very out of the way watering hole that once had a clever, formal appellation. It was the kind of place that had never, ever served anything remotely identified as syntheholic. But to fleeters this old-time bar was simply called ‘Research’. And it had been so named for about two centuries. It was even rumored that the legendary Captain Kirk had been known to park his ass on a bench in a dark corner for more than a few hours doing ‘research’ whenever the original Enterprise had been docked…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“Ollie to the Baldy Eagle. Come in please.”

This summons startled Admiral Jean-Luc Picard - especially with the use of a rarely spoken out loud nickname.

‘Ollie’ was a name that Admiral Jean-Luc Picard had not heard since his days on the Stargazer. Furthermore, how the man paging him even knew that he was on the star base was a mystery to Picard since he had only just docked the LeGuin a few minutes earlier. 

On the other hand, the admiral did not take umbrage at the use of his seldom heard nickname of ‘Baldy’. For Ollie was an old friend of Guinan and Jean-Luc Picard would never be foolish enough to ever ask an old friend of Guinan to not use that lady’s particular moniker for him.

With the second hail, Jean-Luc tapped his comm badge. “Yes, Ollie.”

“You need to get over here.” He didn’t have to specify the location. Jean-Luc well knew where. “I think that there is a lady here that is in need of a silver knight wearing tarnished armor.”

Since Ollie had not called the base’s security, Picard immediately understood that whatever was going on - it was going to be a very delicate matter.

“Still have some Aldebaran whiskey?” Jean-Luc just had to ask as he walked toward the base’s inner transportation moving platforms.

“Sure, Baldy. Kept a bottle for you all these years just in case you would care to drop by again.”

“On my way.”

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

At first, Jean-Luc didn’t understand why Ollie had summoned him. He entered the dark bar and glanced about the corners of a room that Rube Goldberg could have designed, scrutinizing the inhabitants. It took him a while before he recognized the lady who was apparently the so-called damsel in distress. Yet the bottle that sat in front of Admiral Janeway was nearly full. It didn’t look like she had consumed more than one double, at best. He pondered his course of action before he then studied the patrons again. It looked like no one had as of yet, identified or was paying any notice to the lady in a black dress.

Jean-Luc stepped up to the long, aged Tanugian burled wood bar and nodded a greeting at the Bolian bartender. “Ollie. Good to see you.” There was no need to say much more. Jean-Luc had always understood this bartender. And vice versa. “First bottle?” He glanced in the admiral’s direction.

Ollie nodded as he continued to wipe a wood surface that had been worn uneven over the decades. “The lady is in a bad, sad, mad mood, Baldy. She’s got her Irish dander knitted up…”

Jean-Luc was not about to question this particular barkeep’s grasp of the situation. For this Bolian was the being who had taught Guinan how to be a barkeep a long time ago. Ollie’s assessment of the situation was readily accepted. Jean-Luc then reached over behind the bar and grabbed a clean low ball glass, before he whispered, “Understood.”

He then walked over to where Kathryn was and seated himself down across from her, not waiting at all for an invitation.

“Look what the targ dragged in... Jean-Luc!” She sounded pleasantly surprised albeit a bit snarky over his intrusion. Admiral Kathryn Janeway was also thoroughly sober even as she rose to greet her old comrade with a kiss on his cheek.

“However, it looks like you weren’t dragged into this den of iniquity by a targ, unwillingly.” He reached over and returned the favor of her kiss, pausing just for a second as he caught a whiff of her floral perfume. “Hello, Kathryn.” Then he eyed her bottle. She immediately sat back down and poured her old friend a very generous double shot. 

“Drink up, old man.”

He ignored that slander since it was truth. 

Kathryn eyed him, assessing him. She remembered what he had been like decades ago. And she contrasted that old mental image to the way he looked today and then compared him to the shining, competent looking commandant impression that he had projected so well very recently. That image was missing today. It seemed as if the passage of the years had worn the real man down quite a bit. She understood why. “What brought you here?” 

“My admiral’s yacht.”

She blinked, distracted by this bit of information. “Ad-mi-ral’s yacht?” 

“I guess that it is one of the few perks of being an admiral, admiral.” He raised his glass. 

“Slainte mhaith.” She spoke the ancient Irish toast.

“Dheagh Shlainte,” though he was years out of practice, he remembered the proper response, even as she involuntarily grinned over his slight, rusty mispronunciation.

And then they clicked glasses. And drank together.

Her smile was soft, as she accepted his amused expression at her lapse of memory. “You know; I’d forgotten about that admiral’s perk…” She took another swig of her whiskey before cautiously querying, “So, how does a brand spanking new pair of rear-admiral bars acquire a yacht of her own to command? I had to come to SB 42 on a shuttle.” She shuddered remembering certain horrors. “A civilian shuttle.” 

“Admiralty Department of Supplies and Requisitions,” Jean-Luc calmly replied as he took a sip of his own whiskey. As the amber gold flowed about his mouth, he recognized that it was indeed the real thing - pot still whiskey of a most superior quality. “You can pretty much order whatever you want from that department, including requesting a ship that requires a permanent crew in attendance.” He silently wondered about the motives behind the name of the individual at the Admiralty who had not cared to inform Admiral Kathryn Janeway that she could request her own personal space ship.

She finished off her drink and poured herself another double. “Not for me,” she observed. “I prefer flying solo when I can. As do you - unless you have grown soft in your dotage.” She looked about the almost-dark room that could house a million sorrows or secrets. “I know what brought you officially to SB 42. I came here under a similar command. But what actually brought you,” she waved her glass about managing to avoid any spillage, “here?”

Jean-Luc chose the words of his explanation very carefully, for he intuited a bit of Kathryn’s emotions that were churning beneath the teasing civility of her spoken words. “Bollie Ollie is an old friend of an old friend of mine. He knew who you were when you walked in and he thought that you might need… company.”

“Jean-Luc, if I needed company, I could have easily acquired someone anywhere on this station.”

“Then, perhaps I should say an old friend, instead.”

She mulled that comment over for a moment as she considered the possibilities. “An old friend is acceptable.”

“In that case, may I take you to dinner?”

“Jean-Luc, not now. Maybe later. I’d rather drink whiskey tonight.” 

Her words were an unvoiced challenge to him.

He picked up the bottle, inspected it for a moment, considered his options and then topped off his drink and drank it all down. “In that case, Kathryn, I’ll join you.” He glanced about as if to discern if there were any more unseen, prying eyes. “But not here.” His voice was low.

She laughed. It was a brittle sound. And then she stood, finishing off her glass. “Must protect our exalted Starfleet image, mustn’t we…,” was her whispered observation as she picked up the bottle. “Lead on, MacDuff.” But, in spite of her words, it was Kathryn who led Jean-Luc out of the bar.


	6. Knight Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jean-Luc met Kathryn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I published "Are with There Yet?" chapter out of order. It is chapter seven. Not six. So, if you read that chapter already, come back and read this one.

DETACHED:  
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 6

Knight Moves:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

Overwhelming.

Unstoppable.

Unexpected.

Desire.

Heart-racing passionate desire.

And then some.

In the months to come who kissed whom first became a moot point for neither could exactly remember which one of them had made the first move. The lady holding the bottle of Jameson’s dropped it as her arms found something better to clutch as she stumbled into him in the dimness of her hotel suite. 

The glass whiskey bottle hit the luxuriously padded bronze colored carpeting of Kathryn’s hotel suite with a muted thud. It landed without shattering. The golden contents sloshed about as if testing the security of the stopper before it finally stilled. The only noise in the suite was the sound of the outer door as it shushed shut behind them leaving them in near darkness. Only the moving ship lights and the stars visible through the space window illuminated the room. 

A feverish fire rose to overwhelm the many years of denial and discipline that had dominated both parties for far too many years. With a roar, it incinerated every conscious objection in its path.

Jean-Luc found himself kissing the lady with an almost-forgotten depth of passion. And the lady was ravenously kissing him back as if he were the only banquet that could satiate all her physical hungers. She was completely senseless to any logical arguments against kisses. Or touches. Or thrusts. 

Clothing was rapidly removed as sheer carnality dominated. Their desires were too great.

Hours later they finally made it to the bedroom though the arduous climb to make it to the top of the mattress took a wee bit more time.

Hours after that, Jean-Luc nearly stepped on the Jameson’s in the dark, as he went in search of a replicator. For a while he stood there, contemplating the bottle. Then he picked up a glass from the bar in the corner of the living room, poured himself a short one, and sat for a while, to gaze out the giant window that revealed the hub activity of the space station with its passing drones and docking ships.

For a moment, he briefly wondered if the crystal aluminum panel was one-way viewing, but then decided that it must be since he was in a hotel after all. And surely he would have heard scuttlebutt by now over the years of the potential for erotic viewing if it had been otherwise…

Glancing back toward the bedroom, he reflected about what it was that he had just done. Part of his psyche was accepting of this most unexpected development. There was a part of him that acknowledged that he had fatalistically accepted that sooner or later his libido’s demands would surface. Now, it had. And its emergence had coincided with a woman whom he had always admired and respected. And to whom he had been attracted in the past, though common sense had dictated that he does nothing about it then. He ruefully admitted to himself that Kathryn Janeway was a surprisingly good choice for him given this situation; if he considered all of the other important elements about his life. But she was also a complication as well.

Everything about the lady was wrong. She was too petite for he was used to long dancer’s legs embracing him. She didn’t smell right for her floral scent of spice, lavender and vanilla was an alien scent to him on a most basic level. Her moans were too low. They were not loud enough. 

But his major complaint about the lady - his chief and foremost objection - was that she was not Beverly… 

And yet, she felt so right for him. From a sexual point of view, she had been a most pleasurable and pleasing partner. And she was just the perfect size to hold in his arms…

He considered the possibility that Kathryn Janeway was as lonely and isolated as he was.

He sat in contemplation, slowly sipping whiskey as he watched the spacecraft thrust by.

Reaching a decision, he stood, and picked up the bottle of whiskey from the crystalline side table and then walked over to the replicator behind the bar.

Quoi que sera, sera… (Whatever will be, will be…)

He brought the bottle as well as a butler’s tray of sandwiches, a pot of tea, a carafe of coffee, fruit, cheeses and a bowl of coffee ice cream, back into the bedroom.

He had not bothered to replicate a robe for himself.

She was sitting up on the edge of the bed, hunched over, almost as if in despair. For a moment, he paused in the doorway, studying her nude body in the dim lighting; analyzing her attitude.

Then she heard the clatter of a spoon on the tray as he stepped closer to the bed.

She quickly glanced toward the door. “Jean-Luc. You’re here.” She tried to disguise the relief that was in her voice. But he knew that it was there.

He positioned the tray on a bedside stand before answering her. “Did you really think that I would just leave you, Kathryn?”

“No, of course not.” She answered too quickly. But he knew better than to force this issue.

“I have brought us sustenance.” He slid back into bed, and placed the self-stabilizing tray next to her pillow, between them. He picked up a carafe and poured. “Coffee. Black of course. And more coffee - ice cream, if you wish.”

She inspected the tray. “You got my hotel room’s replicator to properly work?”

Jean-Luc was entertained by her statement. For he recalled certain reports that he had recently read. “Kathryn, you must have really pissed off the gods of the replicators if all of the replicators that you use are out to get you.” He handed her a mug of coffee and then placed the thermos on her side of the tray.

“What?”

He chuckled. “I’ve actually read B’Elanna Torres’ treatise on the idiosyncratic behavior of Voyager’s replicator program and the way that your personal replicators were known to respond oftentimes contrary to your commands. And about your efforts to personally repair them. At times, it was a rather amusing accounting.” On her surprised look at this bit of information, he added, “My former science officer, Mr. Data brought it to my attention. He has been working on a similar supposition that certain AI systems might acquire a ‘personality’ after years of constant repetitive commands by the same subject. Akin to what has been happening with photonics.”

“I didn’t even know that B’elanna even wrote a paper about my damned old replicator.” Relaxing, and deciding that she was hungry, she tackled some of the grapes and brie with gusto.

He refilled her mug. “I must confess that I was entertained when I read it. Considering your behavior during our months together on the Cleopatra, in the beginning, I was not that surprised by her observations of your personal travails.”

If she could have buried her head in her hands, she would have done so. But the coffee she was sipping was just too good to put down. She dryly observed, “What the Admiralty must think of me…”

“Some of us were glad that you had your human foibles, Kathryn. At times, your accomplishments were just too intimidating… too mythic for a mere mortal captain.”

She put down her mug. “Surely you don’t think that, Jean-Luc?”

“No. Was I surprised by what you’d done? Of course not. I knew that if anyone could survive, given your catastrophic circumstances, you were the captain capable of bringing Voyager and her crew, home.”

“Not everyone, Jean-Luc. I lost too many of my crew…”

He silently noted that Kathryn Janeway still did not differentiate between the Starfleet and Maquis members of her crew. It just simply was not the way that this former captain thought.

“Statistically, you should have lost a lot more of your crew, considering your situation, Kathryn. Commander Data did an analysis.” He poured himself some tea, and then leaned back against the upholstered headboard. “The fact that you didn’t… What you did was a most extraordinary feat.”

She could tell that Jean-Luc was utterly sincere with every word that he had said. A little part of her accepted his words as a balm to her sorely battered soul. She highly respected this man. For Jean-Luc Picard was a member of that rarefied group of Starfleet officers that she truly admired.

She picked up her mug and finished off her second dose of caffeine. And she thought for a while piecing together some of the clues from what he had not said. “You were one of the admirals on the review board, weren’t you?”

Officially the names of the admirals who had reviewed the Voyager logs were supposed to be unknown but the rumors of the identities of such admirals was not exactly a well-kept secret at Starfleet headquarters.

“Yes, I was the chairman of some boards including the Maquis problem committee. Commander Data was my adjutant.” Jean-Luc watched her as she poured another mug of coffee into the hotel’s signature amber glass mug. “You might be interested to know that our solution to the Maquis problem was unanimous.” He savored some more of his tea before he added, “Even Alynna Nechayev supported you from the very beginning. As far as we all were concerned, there was no problem - Maquis or otherwise.”

She perceived that there was a lot more behind his statement, but she did not feel like interrogating Jean-Luc at the moment. Perhaps there were certain things that would be best for her to never know…

“By the way, Kathryn, your personal protocols were the deciding factor for those admirals who did not know you personally or professionally.” He made that statement rather calmly, as he watched for her reaction to it. He was not disappointed.

Her glass mug clattered against the tray as she hastily placed in down. “What?”

“How you stayed true to your self-imposed protocols.” He inspected her carefully before he added, “And what adherence to those protocols personally cost you, Kathryn.”

She was in denial as she shook her head. “No. The cost was the price I had to pay… It was what I had to do in order to bring everyone home…” 

“The fact that you loved Commander Chakotay, but still did not have an intimate relationship with him, weighed heavily upon our decision, Kathryn.” She seemed distressed by this observation. “Oh, Starfleet would have accepted your relationship with Commander Chakotay if you had crossed the Rubicon, so to speak. But certain admirals would have viewed your subsequent reports with greater suspicion. And perhaps questioned them further.” He watched as she slowly assimilated this information. He also knew that he had to tell her, “There is one other thing. Certain admirals accessed your personal logs, Kathryn.” He could tell by the expression on her face that she was truly shocked by an action that was not in accordance with her perception of Starfleet protocols.

“How. Could. They?” she finally whispered.

“There are those who would dare anything - specially to find fault with you.” He put down his plate. “There are some admirals who find you disquieting. Perhaps they even resent what you accomplished. Or suspect that you no longer will be as comfortable with the chain of command as you once were. Perhaps they even suspect that you did not put everything in your logs…”

“I was as honest as I could be when I wrote my logs, Jean-Luc.”

“I never doubted that what you wrote was your interpretation of the truth, Kathryn…” He said nothing about what she might have left out of her logs for he had yet to meet a captain who put every single thing in their official logs. 

They sat in silence for a while and ate. Finally, she spoke up. “New Earth…,” she softly said as the enormity of what he had just revealed began to be processed into her consciousness.

He quickly allayed her fears. “I insisted that no one read those entries - at least no one connected to my inquiries.” On her gasp of relief, he added, “You were not an acting Starfleet officer at that time. Neither was Chakotay. It was none of Starfleet’s business.”

“Nothing happened, Jean-Luc. Physically, I mean.” Her laugh sounded brittle again. “I feel so violated, Jean-Luc. Invaded. I never imagined that Starfleet would do such a thing…”

“I had hoped that they would not, as well,” Jean-Luc confessed. “But I could not stop them. Starfleet has changed while you have been gone, and not necessarily for the better.” He ate some of the Corellian strawberries resting on a mercury glass tray. “And it was your adherence to protocols throughout all those years that convinced my committee that there were no hidden conspiracies or dangers involving your Maquis.” He placed his tea mug down. “But I suspect that the private cost to you was very high…”

They ate in silence for a while, almost clearing all the food off of the tray.

Finally, after she finished off her the last of her coffee ice cream, she put down her spoon and stared directly at Jean-Luc.

“Now what?”

He found her question to be amusing, direct and so typically Kathryn Janeway. He countered with a simple question. “When are you due back?”

She glanced over at the floating chronometer by the bed stand. “I am booked on a shuttle to Earth in about twenty hours.”

“Cancel it.”

“Oh? Are you offering a better ride?”

“A ride on my yacht?” he innocently suggested though the gleam in his eye suggested otherwise.

She took a while to answer as she considered his offer. “I take it that we will be alone?”

“We’d be completely alone…”

“Whatever would we do for about eighty-four hours at warp five?”

“I could use a co-pilot,” he replied with the same amount of innocence in his voice as was in hers. His fingers lightly stroked upper right arm, teasing over her shoulder to skim about her rib cage.

“Oh no, I am just going to rest and relax on the journey back. You can be my chauffeur and adjutant to cater to my every whim.” Her voice dropped an octave, suddenly full of blatant sensual suggestion for his fingers had just started exploring her breast. “It’s been a very long time for me, Jean-Luc. I have been alone for almost eight years…”

“For me, it has only been four years…” He didn’t bother adding the additional months, days, hours and minutes since Beverly had disappeared. He didn’t want her to know how closely he had kept count.

“That’s why you get to be at my beck and call…” she suggested. “I think that I would rather travel at warp four…” She licked her lips before she rolled closer to him to nibble on his neck. “It would add another twenty plus hours onto our travel time.”

“I am your senior officer… I thought that I was supposed to give the orders…” He shoved the tray back onto the night stand, and then leaned over her, drawing her closer to his chest. 

“Let’s get this straight from the very beginning, Jean-Luc. Once we take those uniforms off, we are equal in all things…” She began to survey his chest muscles more carefully, since earlier this evening, there had been other urgencies that were dictating her actions. But now, a leisurely exploration of his body seemed like a very good idea.

“Agreed,” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her. And investigated. And kissed her. And conquered. Until Kathryn was replete with pleasure and Jean-Luc was a well-satisfied man - for the moment.

Much later she rose from the bed and stretched, well aware that Jean-Luc was watching her every move. “Lights, eighty percent,” she commanded as she turned to face him. She knew what he was seeing - a battle Borg-scarred, bordering on middle age woman who was sort of in decent physical condition. She was far cry from the nubile, physically fit young female officers that he must encounter on a daily basis back in San Francisco. The way she posed - it was almost as if she was daring him to say something. 

All he did was caress her with his eyes. There was a decided desirous expression about his look.

He kicked off the sheets and then slid over to her side of the bed. “I am in the mood for a bath.” With this announcement he stood, revealing in the light all of his battle scars he had chosen not to have removed, and all of his wrinkles. Then he walked toward the bathroom door giving her the opportunity to inspect him, just as he had done to her. After a moment, he paused at the door jamb and added, “As I recall, you rather like baths. Care to join me, Kathryn?”

“I never travel anywhere without my Vulcan t’aliah spice bath salts. You might appreciate them too…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Long before even DS9 became a reality, I thought that Kate Mulgrew would be a fine addition as an actress in a STAR TREK series. From the beginning of TNG I had envisioned her as a senior officer on board the Enterprise D. Of course, at the time, I was leaning toward her involvement with Will Riker rather than JLP since from the very beginning JLP belonged with Beverly. When it was announced that she would be taking over the role as Captain Janeway from Genevieve Bujold, I couldn't help but shout 'yes!'. Of course, what was filmed was another matter. I have my issues with the way her character was treated on STV especially after Barbie Borg showed up, but that is a rant for another place. And yes, I do appreciate the work that Jeri Ryan did as 7. I just resented the fact that it took away from KJ.
> 
> So, if you are still cursing me about what I've written, then get ready for a lot more, before Beverly returns. Of course, what happens after Beverly returns will be lots of fun. With a little bit of heartbreak thrown in for good measure.


	7. Are We There Yet?  The Road Trip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc and Kathryn travel back to Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I accidentally published this chapter out of order as chapter 6 and not chapter 7. If you read "Are We There Yet?" already, go back and read chapter 6. It will make the time line seem a bit more logical.

DETACHED:  
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 7

Are We There Yet?: The Road Trip

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“Your wish is my command, Kathryn.”

Kathryn believed that the list of ladies would be legion who would have given anything to have heard that line from Jean-Luc Picard in the past. But she knew better than to give voice to her opinion.

“Well, when we get back to Frisco, you should order your engineers to add a bath tub to the LeGuin.” She glanced about the turquoise glazed shower stall as she snuggled closer to him under the shower’s rain fall temperate setting. “At least, it’s not Starfleet grey in here…”

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“I can top that!” Kathryn’s voice was gleeful as she reached across her lover’s chest in order to grab another petit beurre biscuit from the plate on his side of the bed. Even as she munched, brushing aside any crumbs that fell on his hirsute chest, she asked, “Where did you get the recipe for these cookies? They are delicious. Almost as memorable as my mother’s brownies…”

Sitting up, Jean-Luc repositioned Kathryn so that she nestled against his left shoulder against the headboard of his admiral size bed. He reached over and grabbed his tea mug off of the yacht’s built-in nightstand and took a sip before answering. “Ludvig. He’s my chef at Picard House. He came with me when I left the Enterprise.” He didn’t add that this cookie recipe had been a favorite of his wife’s…

Putting down his mug, he just had to ask, “And how can you top Q turning me into a lieutenant, junior grade? And forcing me to relieve some of the more regrettable moments of my life…,” Jean-Luc mock-shuddered before adding, “…with Riker as my superior officer!”

A long time ago, Kathryn had once briefly had Will Riker as a superior officer too, so she did sympathize with Jean-Luc, up to a point.

“Q only Ebenezer Scrooged you when he took you back to your salad days, Jean-Luc. Me…” She thumped her collar bone. “He wanted me to be the mother of his child. And when I refused, he plopped me down in the middle of the Q Continuum civil war in hoop skirts and pantaloons! And then he made me watch how the Q procreate.” She really shivered over those memories. “Afterward, as a reward, he made me Junior’s godmother - without really asking my permission.” Dramatically lowering her voice, she added, “I had to baby sit!”

With a superior smile, confident that he held the winning hand in this game of admiral one-upmanship, Jean-Luc coolly remarked, “Q is the fairy godfather to my twins…”

“Oh, the horror!” she teased.

She knew she couldn’t top that one so she swatted him instead, before attacking his most ticklish spots as she sidled down his naked body, pushing aside the crumpled sheets to reach her objective.

The last coherent words that Jean-Luc muttered before he started moaning was, “I had forgotten how competitive you were…”

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“Defend yourself.” He stood by the line drawn on his makeshift piste which was considerably shorter than regulation. But on an admiral’s yacht, one just had to make do with whatever space was available.

“Jean-Luc, the last time I fenced was when I was a seventeen-year-old cadet. It’s been a while.”

“Defend yourself.” He raised his foil a few centimeters higher in the air and saluted her. The electronic monitor beeped quietly in the background as it registered the readiness of their equipment.

Eyes narrowing, Kathryn decided that he had poked her protective breast covering for the last time during this impromptu fencing ‘lesson’. She might not have had any formal fencing training since her academy days, but she had religiously worked the self-defense exercises with Tuvok or Ayala over the past seven years. She had even used the Maquis hand-to-hand or hand weapon combat programs fairly often on board Voyager that B’Elanna had programmed for the holodeck. She had learned a move or two over the years.

Standing still, she saluted him back and then waited for the computer to say “En garde!” The match began.

When Jean-Luc lunged, she twirled. He tried to follow her movements but soon found the buttoned point to the foil striking a ‘beep!’ against his ribs.

“Those are not conventional moves,” he informed Kathryn, as he watched her do a little happy dance for this was the first point that she had scored against him during this lesson.

“Those moves worked, didn’t they?” His response was to lunge. She dodged.

Of course, Jean-Luc won the match. But Kathryn had managed to score two more times against him. Twenty minutes later, both lovers decided that it was time for a joint shower.

“Now, I know how you survived the Delta Quadrant,” Jean-Luc informed the lady as he soaped her back. “Extremely unconventional thinking.”

“I had to throw the rule book out the shuttle bay door, way too often, Jean-Luc.” She turned to face him, idly noting that he was actually looking at her face rather than her breasts under the falling warm waters. Of course, what his hands were now lathering was another matter entirely… “And every move you made was in strict adherence to fencing rules?” She tried to ignore what he was doing to her body - for the moment at least.

“I must admit that I was forced to use some unconventional moves as well. Though if you would like to be serious about learning how to fence, it would not take you too long to learn how to become a formidable opponent. I would be willing to coach you…” He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, lingering but a moment. He had a confession to make. “I couldn’t let you beat me. My ego couldn’t stand that…”

Her laughter in response to his honesty echoed about the shower walls. It sounded relaxed and carefree to him. And it was a merry, pleasing noise though it did seem as if it was a somewhat out-of-practice sound for her. 

But there was something that she just had to know, as she applied some of the Vulcan version of bay spice scented gel soap to the palms of her hands. “Did you ever fence with Will Riker?”

“Only once.” Jean-Luc laughed too, even as he felt her hands touching him. He valiantly tried not to respond - at least not yet.

“Tucked tail and ran whenever you suggested another match?” He heard her words but his mind was focused on other actions.

“Something like that.”

But Kathryn was distracting him too well. Even as he sank to his knees, he thought he heard her whisper, “How well do you play kal-toh?”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

She was watching him replicate the ingredients for dinner he was planning on fixing, as she sat at the small table in the yacht’s galley. He’d learned from their Cleopatra mission not to let Kathryn near a camp stove. And considering her current relationship with replicators, he was not inclined to let her try ordering anything more complicated than toast. Instead, he gave her the task of opening up a bottle of a crisp sancerre, which he thought would go well with the crepes he was planning on making for dinner having a shrimp, mushroom and cream sherry sauce.

If there was one thing upon which his maman had insisted, it was that her sons learn the basics of cooking. Not that he rivaled Riker’s skill, but Jean-Luc did like to cook every now and then, though it had been a while since his last culinary endeavor.

“And you can cook, too,” Kathryn stated, enviously admiring the man’s actions as she watched him work his way about the small galley.

“I take it that you’ve never learned?” Jean-Luc was genuinely curious as to why a scientist with multiple doctorates behind her name seemed to not be able to cook.

“Oh, my mother taught me.”

Even as he chopped the mushrooms, he waited for her to explain.

Perhaps it was the lighting, but he thought that he detected a slight reddening to her cheeks. 

“It didn’t take?”

“Oh, I know the basics, Jean-Luc. I can actually boil water, pour a bowl of cereal or make a pot of coffee. But anything more complicated than that… well, it turns into a catastrophe regardless of how religiously I follow the directions...” She laughed again. “Recipes are my beta noir…”

Jean-Luc considered her words and refrained from remarking about her overall ability to follow directions in general. “I know a good counselor…”

She brightly smiled back at him. “I do, too.” She deftly opened the bottle of wine and poured a portion of it into two tall white wine glasses.

“Deanna Troi,” they said in unison. 

“I think that Counselor Troi is now specializing in the peculiarities of admirals,” Jean-Luc half-muttered to himself.

“She has got plenty of material with which to work…,” Kathryn agreed as she enjoyed her wine.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“So, this was one of your favorite fantasies?” Kathryn breathily inquired as she bounced around. “I am rather fond of it myself.” She shifted a bit. “Though in my version of this particular captain’s fantasy, I was bent over the captain’s chair…” She moaned rather loudly for a few moments in response to his poking, before sighing in delight. And then continuing with, “Of course in my version, it was Voyager’s bridge.” She automatically glanced toward the auto-pilot panel to make sure that everything was functioning properly on board the yacht, before she mightily sighed again. “I suppose that every starship captain has their own version of this fantasy…”

Gasping for breath, Jean-Luc considered his position in his pilot’s chair and where Kathryn was currently resting. “Your fantasy can be arranged…” He shifted, rising as he moved Kathryn to her feet.

“Now?” She was somewhat surprised since she thought that she had just about done him in.

“Expect the unexpected with me, Kathryn Janeway…” He repositioned her so that she could bend properly over the front of the chair, gripping the arm rests.

Kathryn glanced back over her shoulder and smiled her encouragement. “So I am learning…”

He proceeded to give her further proof of his accommodating nature - much to their mutual pleasure.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The tears wouldn’t stop. They just flowed and flowed. All she could do was hold him, and touch him murmuring soothing sounds as he sobbed with absolute sorrow in her arms. For Kathryn came to realize that though Jean-Luc had, to all outward appearances coped with the loss of his wife, it had all been a lie; a façade. He had kept all of his grief ferociously tamped down inside a corner of his heart; for to actually acknowledge its presence would mean that he would have to finally say farewell to his love. And now, more than four years after her disappearance, it simply was something that he could not admit much less do. Until now. So she let him cry. And she offered him whatever comfort from her heart that he would accept. 

He took all that she gave.

It had been a simple thing that had led to this moment. For a few minutes, he had forgotten about Beverly in her company. And when he realized what he had done, he’d excoriated himself for doing such a simple thing - such a simple, human thing.

Finally, exhausted, he slept - in her arms.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“We have to talk about this, Jean-Luc.” She was making her stand, here and now, in spite of the fact that Jean-Luc had just shared another shower with her.

“Why?” He sounded as if he would ignore her, even though a naked Kathryn Janeway was a very hard vision to ignore - especially when her dander was up. He picked up a robe from the back of a chair and donned it. It had rarely been in use during this trip.

“All right, let’s try something else.” She sat on her edge of the bed, crossing her arms about her breast.

Wary, he just had to respond with, “What?”

“What are we doing here, Jean-Luc?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Kathryn hid her almost involuntary grin at the sound of his lordly, icily affronted captainly demeanor. It probably would have worked on her when she was a j.g. But most certainly, it would not work now.

“Is what we are doing here a five-day fling? Or something more? I want to know.” She almost used the word ‘demand’ but decided better of it.

“What more could it be?”

Though a flippant response might have worked twenty hours ago, after his emotional breakdown, she chose a more serious route. 

“Two friends needing each other? Enjoying one’s company? A romantic island in a sea of insanity?” she suggested.

He tightened his blue robe about his body as he considered her words. He was somewhat embarrassed over his outburst a few hours ago, and truly found himself floundering in a sea of emotions that he had long thought repressed. Sitting on the grey cushions of the upholstered sofa that was parallel to the bed, he stared at her.

Minutes passed.

He finally spoke, with a seriousness that belied his current state of dress. “There has to be some ground rules.”

She warily nodded, accepting his need for guidelines. “Which are, Jean-Luc?”

“I can speak freely of Beverly whenever I wish. I need to do so…with you.” He turned away from her as he admitted, “I think… you are the only one with whom I can…”

She could live with that. “And you’ll permit me to curse Chakotay or whatever, in your company?”

“Only if you’ll permit me to call him an idiot, now and then.”

She shook her head. “I was the idiot, Jean-Luc. I told him to seek his happiness elsewhere, even though I loved him.”

“So you cannot really complain because he did so,” he calmly stated back at her.

“Something like that.”

“We need honesty between us, Kathryn.”

“I agree, Jean-Luc.”

“In that case, Kathryn…” He hemmed. He hawed. And then he finally announced, “The Admiral’s Ball is less than three weeks away.”

She laughed again, reclining against the mountain of pillows by the headboard. “Are you telling me that you are looking for a date for the ball?”

“Kathryn, you know how miserable an event those balls are…” He nervously glanced away. “Can you really fault me for seeking a charming companion to alleviate some of the tedium that will be forced upon me? Er, us?”

She laughed harder knowing b.s. when she heard it. “As an admiral’s daughter who was forced to attend many an Admiral’s Ball in my lifetime, believe me, I have experienced excessive tedium in my lifetime. I am thankful that I had my few years in the Delta Quadrant as an excuse that kept me from being obligated to attend the last seven of them…” She inspected him and then patted the empty space beside her on the mattress.

“Being Starfleet’s current golden girl, I am sure that if you wished, you could come up with an acceptable explanation for not attending. But, being the Commandant of the Academy, there is no justification short of being tied to a hospital bed that would be believed on my behalf.”

She had already figured out when he was prevaricating - at least over the little things. “Jean-Luc, have you run out of excuses?”

“I must confess that I have been somewhat creative over the past few years in my endeavors to avoid such events.”

She considered his words before committing herself. “Do you dance? Years ago, I thought that I had heard a rumor that you did not…”

“I do, now. Beverly used to drag me out onto the dance floor now and then - after we were together…”

She noted that for the first time, Jean-Luc had said Beverly’s name naturally, with an emotional context that sounded close to ‘normal’. Whether Jean-Luc Picard recognized it or not, he was finally on the long journey of recovering from the loss of his wife.

She stood and extended her hand toward him. “In that case, Admiral Picard, let us practice. I have not done that much dancing myself over the past few years. I am pretty sure that I am out of practice.”

A minute later the two lovers were swaying together, to a slow, melodic song about long lost loves…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“So, how do you wish to handle this?”

He glanced in her direction as he finished packing his ditty bag before placing it in his duffle. 

“Meaning?”

“Do we make a public announcement about our ‘friendship’?”

“Surely, our appearance together at the ball will be sufficient announcement for the gossips?”

She laughed again. “Jean-Luc, the minute I set foot off of this yacht, the gossip about our little road trip together on board the LeGuin, will be broadcast about Starfleet at warp speed.”

“Surely, there will not be conjecture about an old friend giving another friend a ride home?”

She just glared at him as if an answer to that particular question was beneath her.

Even as he contemplated his words, he acknowledged the truth of her suspicions. “I suppose that it is possible that my own staff will be the worst offenders…”

She nodded. “Especially when you consider how many of our friends could be described as ‘well-meaning’…”

He groaned in realization as memories of Lwaxana and her antics were recalled.


	8. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn inspects her new office, as Q and Guinan try not to interfere too much

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 8

Baby Steps:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

With quiet consideration he watched the holographic images as they swayed and swirled about their marble dance floor. Treasured memories threatened to overwhelm him.

The hologram of Beverly glittered under the diffuse lighting in the vid. The diamonds on her wrist twinkled from the floating candle lights as well as the Christmas lights. The sheen of her silk velvet winter white gown shimmered as she moved, adding an almost ethereal air to her gracefulness. And there was a mysterious expression about her lips that he had never quite decoded though he would have willingly spent the rest of his life doing so if fate had permitted it.

And he knew that when Reg Barclay had filmed this particular moment from the about-to-become-infamous Christmas party of long ago, holding Beverly in his arms as they were both filled with the joyous news of her pregnancy, had been one of the happiest moments of his life. (A.N. This tall tale is called De-Tached, Story 3, Joyeaux Noel.)

He watched on as he relived moment after moment from Reg Barclay’s montage of two lovers dancing. 

The embassy function to which Beverly had dragged him… The night they had boldly announced that they were in a relationship by walking into Ten Forward holding hands and then slow dancing to “Isn’t It Romantic” during Riker’s jazz concert… Their wedding waltzes… Gamboling about the beach on Risa during their honeymoon (though how Reg had gotten ahold of Woody Nakamura’s video is another story.) … 

Somehow, Reg had managed to compile the footage of what had once been his life with Beverly through dance. Admiral Picard would forever be grateful for the thoughtfulness of his friend, ‘Commander Broccoli’.

When he had watched the holovid twice through, he stood and picked up the memory chip from the tea table that was next to the Arts and Crafts style oak frame sofa that sat in front of his library’s fireplace. If there was a tear in his eye, he pretended that it was not there. He walked over to the fireplace, pushed a small, decorative carved wood rondel, and then opened a sliding door to the small hidden compartment that was located to the left of the mantel. In an antique, inlaid satinwood document box, he placed the chip. And then he closed the recessed compartment. Someday, he would show these scenes to his children… 

As for Jean-Luc Picard, it finally was time to put such viewings where they belonged - in the past.

He didn’t want to live a life without a Beverly. But chance had not given him a choice.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“Isn’t it interesting as to how things turned out?” Q idly mumbled as he munched on some Denebian aaooqa caviar and crackers.

Guinan shuddered as she watched this member of the Q Continuum slurp the gelatinous bile-colored lumps down. “I don’t know how you can eat that stuff. Do you really know where it comes from?” 

“I’m impervious to such considerations,” Q announced as he swallowed some more of the raw whatever-it-was drenched with Klingon Gre’thor sauce.

She padded about the puffy white cloud upon which she was floating along with Q. Then his previous babbled words registered in her brain. The alar extensions to her cerise super-hat trembled with indignation. “What do you mean - how things turned out?” She was forever suspicious of Q’s autolycan nature.

“Watch,” Q giggled. He pointed toward an office on one of the upper floors of a tall, Starfleet skyscraper. “The show is about to begin…” The puffy, innocent-looking little cluster of clouds drifted closer to the enormous picture window. 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

Jean-Luc Picard was impressed, as he toured Admiral Kathryn Janeway’s new admiral’s suite. The luxuriousness of it reminded him of his former suite in the Asimov tower when he had been assembling his first crew for the Enterprise D. He suspected that Lwaxana might have had a hand in the décor of this particular suite since it was decidedly ornate - or overblown, as it were. This suite was in a building that usually housed only vice-admirals and those of higher rank. Since Kathryn was a newly-minted rear admiral, he knew that the locating of her home office here in this building of Asimov Tower Number One, was Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley’s statement of his belief in the value and importance of Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway.

Jean-Luc noted the tufted Starfleet blue patterned velvet upholstered sofa with bronze d’ore ormolu accents. Then he noticed and closely inspected the ‘Bellona’ bronze bust by Rodin that was located under a spotlight by the window. He suspected that it might be an original Rudier, Paris casting. It looked it. Even the one-and-a-half-meter tall green marble plinth supporting the bronze was impressive with its bas relief twining ivy carvings. Then he got around to considering the implications of what it meant when the head of Starfleet was positioning the ‘goddess of war’ bust in Kathryn’s suite.

Kathryn wryly smiled as she noticed the focus of Jean-Luc’s attention. “Yes, I’ve been wondering about ‘Bellona’ and what putting her here means too.”

“Well, if Lwaxana Troi picked it out from the Starfleet art archives, then she was completely oblivious to the classical meanings behind the bust.” He waved his hand about the somewhat ornately decorated office. “Lwaxana just selected it from Starfleet’s collection for you, simply because she liked it.”

Kathryn’s smiled tightened as she acknowledged Jean-Luc’s concern. “And if it were Admiral Wiley who did the choosing?”

“Run and duck for cover whenever he calls a staff meeting?” Jean-Luc innocently suggested.

She stepped over to him, and tried to swat his shoulder. He stepped aside to avoid her swing, but bumped into Kathryn as she side-stepped in anticipation of that maneuver, and before they both knew it, they were clutching each other’s arms, embracing. 

Roaring passion flamed between them as they more than kissed - they devoured each other. Neither lover bothered with the niceties. They ripped or removed whatever might impede their mating. Falling onto the thickly padded carpet in front of the desk, they hungrily completed their loving in a matter of minutes. 

It took longer for them to regain their breath than their lovemaking had taken.

Both were astonished by what had just happened - and about their mutual overwhelming loss of control.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“Well…”

“…that was…”

“…unexpected…”

“…but rather stupendous…”

“Stupendous… That’s an appropriate word…” Kathryn tried to focus her gaze onto one fixed object which in this case was one of the crystal ceiling fixtures. She still lay flat on her back on the floor. She really didn’t wish to move. Her world was still spinning - far more so than what had ever happened on board the admiral’s yacht.

Jean-Luc took another steadying breath before he automatically glanced toward the entrance to this admiral’s inner sanctum. “Is it locked?”

Kathryn panted, gasping for another breath before lifting her head and thinking out loud, “Well, if it is not, we will just have to brazen it through if anyone did see us.”

Jean-Luc wisely nodded in agreement as he quickly determined that he would need to replicate a new pair of clean pants. “Ah yes, you have been reading the unofficial admiral’s code of conduct manual: If I say it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen…”

Kathryn finally forced herself to sit up, resting on her elbows, and started inspecting what she was and was not currently wearing. She was not pleased with the damage to her duty uniform. “Damn, can I order a site-to-site transport? I don’t have any spare clothes here and I don’t dare step outside of this room wearing what’s left of my uniform. With the replicator being in the outer office…”

Jean-Luc simply looked at her, somewhat surprised and very puzzled. “You don’t know? No one told you?”

“Told me what?”

“You have an apartment.”

“What about my apartment, Jean-Luc?” She thought that he was referencing the apartment that she recently leased near the Academy. She didn’t follow him at all.

He stood and glanced around, finally noticing the placement of the recessed panel by one of the built-in bookcases. He walked over to it and tapped a control that was in the exact same place as had been the one in his old pre-Enterprise office. The bookcase swung open.

“What the…,” Kathryn almost cursed out loud. Ignoring her state of disarray, she accepted Jean-Luc’s proffered hand helping her up off of the soft blue carpeting. Then she entered the apartment she did not even know existed that was part of her admiral’s suite.

“My Dad never told me about having an apartment. I wonder if my Mother knew…”

“Kathryn, as far as I know, only the Asimov Towers have apartments as suite amenities for admirals. All of the older office towers do not.”

She was relieved to believe that this was probably the truth about the late Admiral Edward Janeway. 

Speaking carefully, explaining to her about all the amenities that he had once had in a similar office, Jean-Luc guided Kathryn through the small living/dining area. He motioned about the dining room. “If I remember correctly, your table should convert to a poker table should you feel so inclined - even one as fancy as this one is.” She accepted his observation as she duly noted that there was a small kitchen complete with replicator. He escorted her down a hall that led to a small bedroom.

“I have a bedroom?” she innocently asked her companion as she walked into it and looked about, immediately deciding that the pink, fuchsia and grey velvet upholstered everything color scheme would have to go. For the room reminded her of Neelix’s quarters on Voyager sans knick-knacks.

He nodded as he was somewhat dumbstruck by what was surely another example of Lwaxana’s decorating prowess. Though he was sort of impressed by the bed with its gilt mirrored canopy.

She rubbed her rear end. “We most definitely will have to remember that - next time.” She glanced about and added, “And… after I get this room… redecorated.” 

Jean-Luc could only nod his head in agreement.

She glanced above the bed. “Maybe I will keep the mirroring though…”

He chuckled at that absurdity. “Ah, an accoutrement that all admiral’s bedrooms should have.

She stuck her head in the bathroom and glanced about, noting the gilded fixtures. “Well, I suppose it would have been too much to hope for a bath tub.”

He looked in as well, realizing that certain room designs did not change from office tower to office tower in spite of the decorator. “It should be both a water as well as a sonic shower.” He stepped to a panel by the door and waved it open, triggering the sensor. A closet appeared. “As I expected, you have a full set of uniforms in here.”

“So someone on my staff knows of this bedroom’s existence.” She walked over and touched one of the uniforms, noting immediately that it was exactly her size. She grabbed one and stepped into the bathroom, decidedly letting the door slide shut. Much as she enjoyed showering with Jean-Luc, she just simply didn’t have the time at the moment for such aquatic adventures. 

It took her a few minutes but she finally emerged, looking quite admirable in her work uniform.

Jean-Luc went back to the dining area and ordered a tea, Earl Grey, hot for himself, and a double strong black coffee for Kathryn, placing the mugs on the dining table.

“If you would excuse me for a moment, Kathryn. I need to freshen up as well.” With that, he went to the replicator, ordered up a new uniform with underwear, and then stepped into the bathroom. The door automatically slid shut.

A few minutes later, he stepped back out, looking completely unruffled. Kathryn somewhat resented his ability to do that so quickly, even though she was well-practiced in this skill as well. But she was still a bit shaky from their very brief but blazingly passionate encounter.

Kathryn was seated by the table, drinking her coffee, waiting for him. When he was seated as well on what could only be described as a Victorian Renaissance Revival style chair as designed by a Bolian, she asked, “What just happened?”

She coolly sipped her coffee as she awaited his opinion.

He picked up his tea, decided that it had cooled off sufficiently, and then contemplated his response. He decided to dodge the question, for now. 

“Kathryn, did you pick your own staff?”

She thought for a moment. “Two of them are Voyagers - Tal Celes and Samantha Wildman. Most were assigned to me when I arrived, yesterday. I didn’t get a suite assignment until then.”

“Anyone else?”

“When I was promoted, an ensign was designated as my personal adjutant. Ensign Manion informed me that my rooms would not be ready until after I returned from SB 42…” She decided not to press him about the unanswered question - just yet.

“What do you know about this adjutant?”

“She is very good at guessing when I need coffee, and that is about it.”

He was silent for a few more minutes. His voice was stiffer, perhaps more formal than what he had meant, as he spoke. “Contact my Mildred Krebs. She will see that you get the right sort of staff that you can trust.”

“Meaning?” Kathryn didn’t mean to bristle, but Jean-Luc sounded rather dictatorial at the moment.

“Not informing you of your admiral’s yacht privilege is something that a staffer could overlook.” He glanced around. “But, not telling you that you have your admiral’s retreat? That’s not absentmindedness. That is a deliberate effort to inconvenience you.” He just had to add, “Or worse…”

“It’s hardly sabotage, Jean-Luc.” A sudden thought crossed her mind. “But maybe I should double check everything…” She sounded annoyed - more with herself than with him. But he didn’t know that.

He sensed her source of irritation as he apologized. “If you can forgive my highhandedness may I send you Mildred? She can get to the bottom of any bureaucratic mess faster than anyone else in the fleet. She knows Starfleet bureaucracy and politics better than anyone, and she is Winston’s cousin. And even he is afraid of her.”

Kathryn had already met Mildred Krebs at her promotion ceremony, and she now more readily believed all the rumors that were murmured about Starfleet headquarters when the lady walked the corridors. 

“You think this was calculated? Toward what purpose? To embarrass me?”

“First impressions, Kathryn. Think about holding a meeting in your office with several of the more imperious admirals, and their discovering that you didn’t even know you had an apartment.”

“Lost in the Delta Quadrant… Lost at Starfleet command… I see…” She slowly nodded, understanding the implications. “Someone is trying to discredit me.”

“Kathryn, for now you are the admiral who can do no wrong. That automatically threatens any number of political chess players. Even if only for sport, some one or ones, is trying to take you down a notch.”

“And if I can catch any one and call them out for it, I’ll be told that it just was just the simple hazing of a newly-promoted admiral.” The noise she made was not quite a laugh. “Rather ingenious…”

“You learn to tread carefully at Starfleet Command.”

“I already knew that, but now I guess I had better believe it too. I understand, Jean-Luc. But I really should have known better.” She picked up her coffee mug and returned it to the recycling unit. “Yes, I will accept Mildred’s offer of help if she is willing to actually offer it herself.”

“You don’t know the lady very well if you think that she would ever turn down a chance to go snooping and right an injustice, my dear admiral. By the time she is done, someone will be trembling in their boots at the thought of being on Mildred’s little hit list.”

She pretended not to notice that he had called her ‘dear’. “And she is your personal assistant?”

“Because she chooses to be. She picked me though only the stars know why. She is an honorary godmother to my twins too. And she is as dear a friend to me as Guinan is as well…”

“One of these days I am going to have to meet Guinan…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“You are no fun,” Q grumbled as he glared at Guinan. 

The lady just fluffed out her murrey shaded to burgundy skirt shaking off little wisps of clouds that had been clinging to the fabric.

“You just had to trip them into falling behind the desk, out of our line of sight!”

“I was doing you a favor, Q.”

“Hah!” He didn’t believe her for a nanosecond.

“Q, you really wouldn’t want me to tell Jean-Luc - or Kathy - that you were trying to be a Peeping Tom, now would you?”

Q quit his complaining as he recognized what Jean-Luc might do to him if the man found out - or who he might be banned from seeing, for he adored Anna and Billy Bob. And as for what Kathy would do, he preferred not to think about that kind of apocalypse. He always preferred Kathy’s ire to be directed at anyone else other than him.

Q was not however, about to admit out loud to Guinan that she had just done him a favor.

“Let’s go find out who is messing with Kathy!” he announced as he clicked his fingers.

“Yes, let’s…,” Guinan grumbled, as she followed him, for much as she hated to admit it, she was curious too.


	9. Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether he wishes to hear it or not, a variety of people comment about Jean-Luc's love life.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 9

Blessings:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“You have my blessing.”

Jean-Luc Picard looked up from the daily student report padd that he had been studying, and placed it on top of his desk.

“Q.” The admiral was feeling a bit magnanimous this afternoon, so he chose not to respond to Q’s hubris. He didn’t curse (out loud) Q’s name.

“I approve.”

Jean-Luc picked up his padd, deciding to ignore - at least for a moment - this intrusion into his work time. As usual, he was playing catch-up with Academy business. There was always too much to do and oversee, and far too little time in which to do it.

“How is your day going?”

Jean-Luc had to silently grant that Q was persistently annoying. Q’s question sounded like an innocent, polite inquiry, but Jean-Luc knew this being far too well to believe in that possibility.

“What are you doing here, Q?” Deciding not to take out his temper over certain cadet infractions on Q, Jean-Luc softened his voice as he added, “The twins are currently in France with Marie and Robert. But if you’d like to visit them, I would approve. William wishes to show off his new bicycle riding skills to you. However, if he tries to trade the bicycle for a rocket ship with you, please say ‘no’.”

“William is a most determined human child.” Q chuckled. “I will refrain from giving him his first rocket ship - for now. And I do intend to visit them before I have to return to the Continuum. But I am really here to see you.” Q was smiling quite pleasantly as he plopped his behind down on the corner of Jean-Luc’s desk.

“To what do I owe this honor?” Jean-Luc’s patience was beginning to wear a little thin.

“Kathy is one of my all-time favorite inferior beings, Jean-Luc. I adore her.”

Sensing that he might be treading quick sand, Jean-Luc calmly queried, “I adore her as well. He didn’t bother to query who ‘Kathy’ was. He knew. “She’s been a good friend for many years.” 

A lightning bolt cracked through the air, though it didn’t appear to strike anything.

The dramatic brimstone and hell fire Q of old, suddenly appeared with the all the accompanying appropriate theatrics. In a most sonorous, threatening tone of voice, Q announced, “You hurt Kathy, Jean-Luc Picard, and you will only wish that I’d left you as an amoeba at the beginning of time…” His voice reverberated about the office. Q stood midst more lightning bolts, pointing his finger directly at Jean-Luc’s nose. Q then had the temerity to tap it. “You will pray to whatever god you believe in - if not to me - to persuade me to turn you into that benighted amoeba when I am through with you, if you in any way, shape or form hurt my Kathy!” he warned.

Jean-Luc grimaced at the theatrics more suited for Mount Olympus than his office. He never cared for this aspect of Q’s personality. With a calm possession that he just knew would annoy Q, he politely asked, “Why this threat, Q?” For he could think of nothing that he’d done that would warrant from Q, this kind of intrusion into his private life.

“Lunch!”

“Kathryn and I did not eat…” Picard’s voice trailed off as truth dawned. “You were spying on us!” he roared. For this admiral could over-react as well.

“Of course not!” Q crossed his fingers behind his back, since technically that was the truth.

“Liar.”

Q took a quick step back. Rarely did he hear that kind of anger in Jean-Luc’s voice over something that he had done. Usually Jean-Luc just ignored his misbehavior.

“I’m telling the truth, Jean-Luc! I was with Guinan this afternoon. She was asking me about Kathy. What kind of woman she was… did she like kids…? that sort of thing. And you know how well I can resist gossiping about somebody - especially when it is someone I actually know.”

Slightly mollified since he had to believe Q about being with Guinan since Q just had to know that he would confirm that fact when he talked to Guinan, Jean-Luc more civilly observed, “My relationship with the lady is my business…,” he quickly raised his hand to shush Q’s forthcoming protest, “…but since Kathryn herself has told me how fond she is of you, I will accept that you are just concerned for the lady. And all I can say is that I would never deliberately harm the lady. I have known Kathryn a very long time and I am well aware of how extraordinary a woman she is.”

Q waggled his eyebrows but nobly refrained from saying anything that might upset Jean-Luc some more.

Jean-Luc ignored Q’s actions. “And for your information, she prefers my company as much as I like hers.”

Q didn’t hear the last sentence. For Q was actually confounded as Jean-Luc’s prior words registered on his consciousness. Kathy admitted to Jean-Luc that she was fond of him? He was flabbergasted. And he was personally touched more deeply than he would ever care to admit out loud.

Jean-Luc eyed the peculiar expression on Q’s face, even as he waved away an intern that had momentarily opened his outer office door to see what the commotion was about. His staff was used to seeing this particular uninvited guest, and they had no wish to cross Q’s path unless they had no choice. A certain Berengarian hairless poodle puppycat transformation tale was still making the rounds of the lower orders. The fact that it was true was enough to make any intern wary of being in Q’s presence.

“What is it, Q?”

“Just how fond of me is Kathy?”

Jean-Luc knew better than to answer that question. 

“Ask the lady herself.”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

About an hour later, Mildred came into the commandant’s office to check on her boss. She duly noted some rather impressive stacks of padds waiting for her dispersal.

“Mildred,” he calmly remarked as he continued to read his third from the last padd for this day, (he hoped).

She chose to rest on the chair closest to his desk. “We all heard that Q dropped by.”

“Unfortunately yes.” He looked about his office. “Nothing appears to be permanently charred.” He started a new stack of finished padds by placing them next to the old ones. “I suppose Q has gone off to visit the twins in France.” He lifted his eyes upward to gaze at his seemingly-ageless adjutant. “I believe that Guinan is in town though she has yet to drop by.”

“Had a late lunch with her.”

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at this news. “And?”

“So far, the vote is unanimous.”

Jean-Luc detected a certain smugness to Mildred’s pronouncement. “Meaning?” He was hoping faint hope that they had not been gossiping about him.

“So far, you’ve got four votes in favor of Kathryn Janeway: Guinan, Lwaxana, S’Rock as well as myself.”

“Meaning?” This time he did not try to disguise the sound of his displeasure as he contemplated the aspects of a Vulcan Starfleet commander discussing his love life over lunch.

“We all approve of the lady. The fact that she was an old friend of yours helped. And we all think that it is time to invite Robert and Marie over for dinner to meet Kathryn.” Mildred cheerfully watched as Jean-Luc’s expression froze over.

He spoke with as much poise and control as he could muster. “Mildred, just because Kathryn is accompanying me to the Admiral’s Ball on Saturday, is not sufficient reason for me to drag her to meet the family…” 

A triumphant expression crossed over Mildred’s visage.

“What?” he barked sensing that he had just made a misstep. Jean-Luc Picard did not like making missteps.

“I won the bet. I knew you were taking her to the ball. Have fun. Oh, and I sent her an invite to come over Thursday night.” With that, she swiftly stood, swiped up all the finished padds, and exited before the sputtering Jean-Luc could form an appropriate, dignified response.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

It was a Thursday evening, and Kathryn was experiencing for the first time, Jean-Luc Picard’s version of a barbecue at Picard House. He had told her the event was casual, so she dressed in blue slacks with a matching sapphire Denebian silk woven sweater. 

As she entered the house, she was greeted by a pregnant lieutenant in a maternity uniform.

“I am Bronislawa Oleszewski,” the lieutenant merrily stated as she guided the admiral through the foyer and hall toward the main terrace beyond the ball room. “I’m Ludvig’s wife,” she added, without bothering to add any other explanations. “I am glad that you could make it. Guinan’s arrived, and she has been rather, um, inquisitive about you…”

Kathryn tried not to gawk as she looked about the surprisingly formal, elegant long room with its inlaid flooring, sweeping drapery and full concert size grand piano at the far end. Or react overmuch to the news that the aforementioned Guinan was asking about her. 

Brawny noticed her obvious curiosity though, as the admiral still looked about. “First time here, Admiral?”

“Yes. I guess so. Still, it sort of looks familiar…”

“Picard House was the Nagosian Consulate before Jean-Luc took it over again. The family side to the house is much more comfortable than this version of Versailles.” She waved her hand about. “Admiral Picard would have been here to greet you himself but he got some sort of urgent call right as the gate notified us of your arrival.”

She was a little relieved that Jean-Luc had not forgotten that he had invited her. Kathryn paused before the French doors that opened out onto the terrace which had acquired a golden hazy look in the late afternoon sun. She observed that the terrace’s occupants were all casually dressed. There wasn’t a Starfleet uniform in sight other than her escort’s uniform. “What kind of barbecue is this, Lieutenant?”

“Once a month, when home, the Admiral hosts this barbecue. He likes to invite a wide variety of people from friends to politicos to officers to cadets who have earned the privilege of an invite. He has always felt that cadets should be exposed to more than just Academic dorm life.” Brawny giggled. “You should be here when the Enterprise crew are in town. The stories they tell! And Captain Riker usually ends up in a cook-off with my husband. And to tell you the truth, Captain Riker’s secret barbecue sauce is pretty good if you like spicy and sweet…” She opened the double doors and motioned toward the end of the terrace that faced the west, providing an excellent view of the gardens, the Pacific beyond and the sunset.

About twenty people were there, holding drinks and talking.

A rather portly man in a beige shirt, slacks and apron noticed their arrival. He immediately went to a table and poured something into a tall glass mug from a rather small coffeepot, before approaching the admiral and the lieutenant.

“Admiral Janeway, may I introduce my husband, Ludvig?”

Kathryn blinked away her surprise that this rather short man was married to the tall lieutenant, for the man stood before her, nodded, and then presented her with the mug. “A pleasure to meet you, Admiral.” He handed the admiral the mug. “For you. My secret blend.” With that he extended his arm to his bride, and stepped back.

Not knowing what else to do, Kathryn sniffed the mug. The overwhelming richness and depth of the coffee aroma surprised her. Hesitantly, she took a tiny sip. And then another. And another. A moment later, her expression was wide-eyed with bliss as she stared at the short man and then back down at cocoa diamond depths of this miraculous liquid. “This is the best coffee that I have ever tasted.” She took a much deeper swallow as she knew that she had just encountered her version of heavenly perfection on earth.

Ludvig smiled with delight. “Whenever you grace Picard House with your presence, my dear admiral, I will always serve you my secret blend. I so enjoy the company of anyone who appreciates my magnificent coffee.” He sniffed. “Such connoisseurs are sadly lacking around here…”

A warm hand snaked about the admiral’s waist, slightly startling the lady - not that she spilled a drop of her precious coffee. Kathryn Janeway was always prepared for the unexpected. Jean-Luc leaned over and kissed Kathryn’s cheek, by way of greeting. Then he glared at his chef. “Are you suggesting that I am not appreciative of your efforts in coffee making, Ludvig?”

“Coffee is not your life blood, Jean-Luc. Earl Grey is,” the chef retorted.

“It’s a never-ending debate,” Brawny advised Kathryn, as she affectionately squeezed her husband’s hand.

“Something’s burning,” Admiral Picard mildly observed as he smiled at Ludvig.

With a squawk, the chef pivoted and immediately rushed toward the long barbecue that seem to be filled with all sorts of grilling meats and roasting vegetables. Brawny walked after him.

Jean-Luc leaned closed to Kathryn. “Are you re-thinking our relationship?” he casually asked.

Still sipping her coffee, Kathryn nodded. “I’m not so sure I can take a man seriously, who prefers tea over coffee.” She finished off her mug. “In fact, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you drink coffee.”

“I do.” He smiled. “Drink it, that is. When Ludvig makes it. And I drink it black.”

“Ah, then you are a possibility. I will always appreciate a sensible man after all,” Kathryn teased.

Jean-Luc turned his head back toward the house realizing how remiss he had been in greeting his guest. Leaving her to fend for herself had not been his intention at all. “I will show you around later, when things quiet down a bit. In the meantime, may I introduce you to my guests?”

Kathryn put her empty mug down on one of the many café tables that mixed with the patio tables and chairs, about the terrace and permitted Jean-Luc to escort her toward the crowd.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The last thing that Kathryn expected to encounter as she exited the powder room was a small, red-haired girl who batted her thigh. The girl then boldly announced, “Tag - you’re it.”

“Not tonight,” Kathryn countered.

The five-year-old took a step backward and lifted her eyes upward, which in Kathryn’s case, was not too far off from the floor. “Sorry. I thought you were Ryllis.”

“Ryllis?”

“Our nanny.” The girl studied Kathryn a moment before she added, “You’re that admiral who got lost, aren’t you?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Kathryn observed, somewhat bemused by this remarkably self-possessed young lady wearing a pajama set with a pattern of stars all over the soft blue fabric. “I am Admiral Janeway.”

“You’re the one.” And then the girl said nothing more. She just simply stared.

“One what?” Kathryn finally asked, as all sorts of possibilities raced through her mind.”

“You make my Papa laugh. Merci beaucoup.” With that, Anna pivoted and raced up the stairs to return to the family quarters.

“I see you’ve met Anna,” a voice called out from the darkened corridor beyond the guest bath room. 

A serene looking woman, wearing pale rose robes, with a matching tricorn form hat stepped into the light. 

“I am Guinan.”

Kathryn nodded, before politely saying, “I have heard a great deal about you from Jean-Luc.”

“Jean-Luc lies.” Guinan took several steps closer to the admiral.

Somewhat affronted by this character assassination of her friend, Kathryn icily remarked, “I think not.”

Guinan simply smiled. “When it comes to the tall tales that Johnny tells about me, he lies. Sometimes.” She walked up to face the admiral. “Of course, you are smart enough to know that whatever Q tells you about me will be all lies.”

Kathryn knew that this statement was probably truthful. “You know Q too?”

“He’s a cousin. Of sorts.”

“Cousin? You’re a Q?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, that explains everything,” Kathryn mumbled sotto voce.

“I’m an El Aurian. Long lived. With some psychic powers. And, if I am ever in the mood, which has yet to happen, I could become a Q at the Continuum’s invite. So far, I really haven’t been tempted.” To herself, Guinan muttered, “Even when the Borg showed up…”

Kathryn heard that though. And she remembered what had happened to Guinan’s home planet. “I’m sorry,” Kathryn softly said.

“Thank you.” Guinan nodded in the direction of the corridor. “I know a short cut.” She started slowly walking as she expected Kathryn to accompany her into the dimly lit hallway.

Not quite knowing what else to do, and since she didn’t wish to offend someone that Jean-Luc considered to be a close friend, Kathryn walked as well.

“Not that you need my approval, but both you and Jean-Luc have it.”

Kathryn stopped and tried not to glare at Guinan. “Why does everyone have to have an opinion about my so-called relationship with Jean-Luc? Why can’t you all just let us figure out what our relationship will become?”

Guinan nodded. The pink hat fluttered a bit. “I agree. You and Jean-Luc need to find your own way - or not. But you have to remember, Jean-Luc is much loved by his friends. And we are all rejoicing that he is finally rejoining the land of the living because of you.” Guinan eyed Kathryn, then commented, “As are you, if Fleet rumors are correct…”

“You know what they say about rumors, Guinan…”

Kathryn observed that Guinan’s serene smile was very enigmatic.

“Do what Anna and Billy Bob did,” Guinan advised.

“Which is?”

“They took baby steps forward, Kathryn Janeway. You’ll get your heart’s desire in the end, even though it might take a while…”

Sensing that if she tried to puzzle that statement out, it would only lead to a major headache, Kathryn simply nodded, and followed Guinan onto the terrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. I realize that some readers are upset about a certain lady's involvement with Jean-Luc. If it really bothers you, when the story title changes over to RE-ATTACHED, know that is when Beverly will be a major part of the story line. However, a lot of what happened to Beverly will be told in the DETACHED chapters to come. Thanks for reading.


	10. Belle of the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn and Jean-Luc attend that Admiral's Annual Ball.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 10

Belle of the Ball:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn Janeway propped open an eyelid. “This had better be an emergency,” she warned her sister Phoebe, who was acting all sorts of crazy-perky, bouncing up and down on the edge of the admiral size bed which was an oasis of comfort in the blue to lavender to ivory decorated bedroom. By her behavior an observer would have never guessed that Phoebe was old enough to be a happily married mother of a son.

Phoebe only laughed. “You’re the one who gave me the password to your apartment. And when you didn’t answer my hail…,” she bounced some more, “…I let myself in.”

Kathryn propped open her other eyelid, stared at her bedside clock and then glared back at her sister. “Pheebs, it is almost oh-five hundred hours. Forget the time zone difference again?” Kathryn’s sarcasm didn’t work this time on her sister.

Suddenly her sister was concerned. “Don’t tell me that you are suffering from insomnia again…”

“No…” Kathryn rolled over onto her side. “I didn’t get in bed until after oh-two-hundred.”

“Hot date?” Phoebe was ever hopeful about her sister’s personal life.

“Yes… no… huh?” Kathryn rolled back over, burying her face into her over-stuffed Bringolian goose down pillow. No one should be asking her questions before she’d ingested her third cup of coffee in the morning. And since she had yet to drink the first cup, she wasn’t quite ready to cope with her sister’s incessant nosiness.

“Hot date?” Phoebe insisted.

Kathryn gave into the irresistible force that was her sister and sat up, propping herself against some more pillows. “I was at a barbecue last night. And afterwards, someone suggested a few hands of poker.”

“You’re grumpy. You must have lost.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes wondering how after being away from her sister for over seven years, her sister could still read her so well. Surely the Delta Quadrant must have changed her a little bit…

“What are you doing here, Pheebs?” 

Phoebe just responded with an impudent grimace before answering the question. “Time to get moving, sister dear.”

“It’s my day off. I am not moving,” Kathryn primly informed her sister.

“Yes you are.”

“Why?”

“You’re going to that fancy ball tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Kathryn mumbled.

“Do you have a date?”

“I have an escort, Pheebs.” Kathryn contained her surprise that her nosy sister did not ask with whom she was going.

“Well, what are you wearing?”

Kathryn paused, for this was a question she had not really considered - yet. “I’m sure that there is something suitable in my closet.”

“Hah!” 

Phoebe’s laughter sounded incredulous to Kathryn’s ears.

“What?” 

“Unless you picked up something fabulous in the Delta Quadrant, all of your evening gowns are hopelessly out of date – not to mention dowdy. Which was also true, long before you ever even became the captain of Voyager.”

“I bought clothes when I came home…”

Phoebe snorted.

Kathryn didn’t really respond to Phoebe’s assessment of her sense of style for it was a long time standing argument between the sisters. “Pheebs, I am not a slave to fashion. Never have been. So go away, and come back in four hours,” Kathryn ordered in her best ‘she who must be obeyed’ command voice.

“Agreed. Wouldn’t do for Baako to see you looking like something the dog dragged in…” She leaned over her sister and stared directly into her face, inspecting it. “You get puffy when you don’t get enough sleep. I’ll bring the cure for that when I come back.”

Kathryn bestowed upon her sister her best condemnatory ‘annoying sibling’ glare. “Who’s Baako?”

“The dress designer I met at one of my exhibits, who is going to swathe your butt. He is a genius, sister dear.” And with that Phoebe left the bedroom.

Knowing when to surrender to her sister’s insanity, Kathryn, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“Oh my,” Phoebe gasped.

Silently, Kathryn agreed with her sister. She critically studied herself in the triptych form two-meter-tall mirror as she slowly turned around. It had been a very long time since she’d looked like this - if ever.

The black shantung silk gown had one asymmetrical strap that was somehow supporting the very low cut defying the-laws-of-physics bodice which was trimmed with a satin bandeau edging. She now had the illusion of a much fuller bosom than was her normal image yet there was no artificial enhancement. The built in support system to the bodice was an architectural miracle. 

The full length sheath skirt was quite tight, but it had a very high slit off of her right leg to permit somewhat, ease of movement. In and of itself, it was a very daring sheath dress for Kathryn Janeway especially because it had a back that went down to a point on her spine that she rarely exposed to a lover much less anyone else. What turned this gown into the extraordinary though, was that the dress had a full length black shimmering half skirt with a flame red silk interior lining. The shape of the tight black skirt was dramatically framed by contrast with the glowing red lining. In short, it was a very theatrical, very classy, very sexy gown for a woman who had gone around a seventy thousand light year block.

“I pity the gentleman,” Phoebe dryly observed, as she walked around Kathryn in this salon’s fitting room, inspecting every centimeter of her sister’s appearance. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kathryn didn’t mean to sound annoyed by her sister, for once again her sister had proven to be correct about the designer and the dress; for this was the only gown that the designer had displayed to her. And Phoebe had been right. It was the perfect dress for her.

“The only reason you’re putting up with all this…,” Phoebe waved her arms about, “…is because there is someone you want to impress.” Her smile bordered on the wicked as she considered some more possibilities and how her sister looked. “He doesn’t stand a chance when he sees you in that dress. You conquered the Delta Quadrant, and now you’ll conquer him - and the rest of the Admiralty too at the ball.”

Kathryn was dismayed. If her sister really approved of the dress… “It’s too daring, then.”

Phoebe’s only response was a wicked, all-knowing grin. “Somehow, after what you’ve experienced, I think that ‘too daring’ is the least of your problems.” She swatted her sister’s fanny. “Give the old goats in the admiralty something to fantasize about, sister dear.”

The dress designer, a half-Tanusian, half-human who was almost as short as he was rotund, rolled about in Phoebe’s wake as they continued to walk around Kathryn Janeway. “Perfection!” he kept mumbling.

Kathryn assumed that he was referring to the dress.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“Flame red. And black.”

“Roses?”

“No. No roses. Kathryn threw away all the rose bouquets she got when she arrived home with great deliberation.”

“What then?”

“Something more exotic.”

“I shall find something appropriate. Perhaps an orchid.” There was dead silence for a moment, before he asked, “Ms. Janeway, how did you know that I was escorting your sister to the ball? Did Kathryn tell you?”

“No, she hasn’t said a word about you.” Phoebe’s grin grew larger as she contemplated what that query really meant.

Jean-Luc Picard mentally compared the lady’s expression to that of a former Number One who was trying to pull the wool over his captain’s eyes.

“So, how did you know to call me?”

“Admiral, you can command a starship or put the fear into a couple thousand of cadets with a single glance. Me? I was born to bedevil my sister. So, you have your ways. And I have mine…”

He was impressed at this level of sibling deviousness which was something that he well understood. 

“I’ll send the flowers.”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

When Kathryn stepped into her living room, she was a vision that literally shocked Jean-Luc Picard speechless. He had always known that Kathryn Janeway was a handsome woman. But the way she looked - her striking beauty was very much a revelation to him. And such a woman, dressed as she was, demanded an immediate response from him.

“Magnifique…”

He swiftly walked up to her, bowed and then clasped her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips for a kiss. It was a courtly gesture that few if any man in Starfleet could pull off. Kathryn was not surprised that Jean-Luc had the savoir faire to do it. What really amazed her though, was that when he lifted his eyes to gaze into hers, she realized that he really meant it.

Jean-Luc’s reaction was exactly what Phoebe had been hoping for when she opened the door to let Admiral Picard into Kathryn’s apartment.

Kathryn saw the admiration in Jean-Luc’s eyes, though she didn’t understand every emotion that he was revealing.

Phoebe saw much more. Sensing that she was about to become de trop, she quietly said, “Your orchid was perfect for her hair. Thank you, Admiral.” For Phoebe had styled Kathryn’s hair into a French twist with the single, small black shaded to red Janaran orchid nestled into the sweep above her left ear. “I’m leaving now,” she added. Neither one of them noticed for they were too lost in their gazes.

Privately wondering if Jean-Luc and Kathryn would even make it to the ball, Phoebe smiled, and left the apartment, deciding to walk to the closest transport station instead of using the private transporter that Starfleet had installed for Kathryn’s personal use when she’d leased her new home.

It took a few moments before Phoebe’s departure registered on Kathryn, as well as her sister’s parting words.

“Pheebs told you what I was wearing tonight?”

Pulling his wits about him, Jean-Luc answered, “I talked with your sister because I wished to send you flowers. She was most helpful.”

“I bet she was,” Kathryn darkly said.

Sensing a bit of hostility behind that remark, Jean-Luc decided to change the subject. “Shall we go? If we leave now, we will be arriving at the proper time.”

“In other words, you wish to arrive early?”

“Early to arrive… early to leave?” 

Kathryn laughed, in agreement with this suggestion. “What if I want to dance the night away?”

“I think that you’ll decide otherwise after several dances with me.”

“We’ll see,” she observed as she nodded toward the black evening cape that was draped over the back of an armchair. This cape had a red lining that matched her dress as well.

After draping the full-length cape over her shoulders, all Jean-Luc could whisper was, “Stunning…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn stood at the threshold of the stairway that led down into the ball room. “I’m not too flashy, am I, Jean-Luc?”

“Considering that your only adornment is an orchid, I would say ‘no’.” Jean-Luc was being deliberately obtuse, because he knew even if Kathryn did not, that once she was seen, Kathryn would become the belle of the ball.

Within a few minutes after they entered the ball room, his thoughts were proved prophetic. They were swarmed, with most of the men ignoring the Commandant of the Academy. Everyone wanted to greet Admiral Kathryn Janeway, ask her for a dance, talk her into letting them escort her into dinner, etc.

Jean-Luc was amused as he watched the sincere admirers, the up-and-coming commanders, the sycophants and the celebrity seekers, try to get close to the ‘Darling of the Delta Quadrant’ as one Federation news service had so nick-named Kathryn. Through all of this commotion, Kathryn made sure that she stayed close to Jean-Luc.

It was only when Jean-Luc saw that the head of Starfleet, Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley was approaching their group, he forcefully announced to the surrounding crowd of importuning men, “Gentlemen, I do believe that this is my dance with Kathryn.” By the very way he emphasized that lady’s name, a few officers in this crowd were intelligent enough to realize that this particular admiral was staking his claim on the lady.

And before Kathryn quite realized it, she was dancing a slow fox-trot style dance with Jean-Luc. Because it was early into the evening, there were only a few other couples dancing. And Kathryn recognized that by dancing this way at the beginning of the evening, it was as if Jean-Luc was publicly declaring that she was his date. Which he was doing, of course.

“I didn’t know you were so possessive, Jean-Luc.”

“I’d rather think of myself as ‘protective’, Kathryn.”

“Meaning?”

“Declaring the obvious should discourage the more annoying of your followers. It’s the ones who do not care that I am associated with you, that are the ones you should watch out for…”

“Meaning?” She was trying not to sound annoyed.

“Winston Holt Wiley is about to cut in. I have it on good authority that he pinches.” With that remark, Jean-Luc politely smiled as he relinquished his dance partner to his supreme officer.

Surprisingly - at least to Jean-Luc - Winston was the perfect gentleman as he danced with Kathryn. Of course, the fact that Lwaxana joined Jean-Luc on the sidelines of the dance floor might have been Winston’s incentive to keep his fingers from wandering.

“Jean-Luc…”

Nodding, he calmly responded, “Lwaxana…”

“How are my twinnies?”

Jean-Luc had long ago give up trying to keep Lwaxana from being too proprietorial toward his children. At best, he just endeavored to keep the Betazed from spoiling them rotten. Most of the time, he also tried to avoid their little internecine battles even though they often ended in stalemates.

“They are angelic, as usual.” His sly words were not lost on Lwaxana for dealing with two children who were perfectly capable of reading their Papa’s emotions at any given point, gave the twins quite an advantage in the eternal parent versus child battle of wills. However, it was loving ‘aunties’ like Lwaxana and Guinan who kept the children psychically grounded.

“How do they respond to Kathryn?”

He should have known that Lwaxana would be nosy. “They haven’t really gotten to know her yet. Though William has already tried propositioning the admiral into teaching him how to fly a shuttle craft.”

“Maybe she should teach Billy Bob.” Lwaxana knew how much that now-official nick-name for William Robert annoyed Jean-Luc and she was not afraid to use it.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“A boy always remembers his first love - and if that woman permits him to fly a shuttle craft, he’ll adore her forever.”

He mulled over Lwaxana’s words. There was some wisdom to them. “Perhaps if this thing between Kathryn and myself reaches a point where the children should get to know her better, I will consider it.”

“Good. My devoted Winnie is headed our way. And from what I could tell, Winnie kept his hands to himself. He must really like this admiral…”

Jean-Luc wisely refrained from making an observation about that.

“By the way, you’re sitting with us during dinner.”

Jean-Luc silently groaned, knowing that all admiralty eyes would be upon them the rest of the night.

Several hours later after what seemed to be a short super but also with a night filled with long speeches, Jean-Luc and Kathryn were dancing again.

Jean-Luc liked dancing with Kathryn. She was almost the perfect height for him. Though she wasn’t as skilled a dancer as Beverly, they still moved well together. They fit.

And then a thought struck him. He understood again, that he could think now of Beverly, and not be immediately filled with an overwhelming grief - or depression.

Slowly they moved about the dance floor to another love ballad. Jean-Luc was enjoying the moment. And then the dance ended, so Jean-Luc started to guide Kathryn toward their table when they were interrupted.

“If I may, Admiral?”

Jean-Luc didn’t need an introduction to the captain who stood before him. By the way Kathryn stiffened, he would have already known the identity of this officer even though Commandant Picard recognized him from the dossier that he had perused weeks earlier.

Kathryn moved away from her partner as she stared, somewhat in disbelief, at her former first officer. “Chakotay, I thought that you were at SB 42.”

Chakotay bent down and kissed her cheek. “Annika and I have just moved to Earth.”

The captain spoke quite politely, but even Data would have been able to pick up the undercurrents that were running between the former captain and her first officer. 

A moment later Annika joined them. “Admiral Janeway.” She nodded. Then the blond in the long carmine evening gown, narrowed her eyes and precisely enunciated, “Locutus.”

Jean-Luc politely smiled. “Seven.” He glanced over at Kathryn and knew that he had to do something before this scene turned into an incident that could end up being rebroadcast ad nauseam on the news channels. “Captain, with your permission, may I dance with your wife?”

“I need no man’s permission to dance,” Seven autocratically informed all of them before she accepted Admiral Picard’s invitation.

Stifling a comment, Chakotay watched his wife walk off. Then he turned his attention back to Kathryn.

“You look beautiful, Kathryn.”

This admiral accepted his words even as she still watched Jean-Luc’s back, almost as if she were expecting Seven to do something to him. Stabbing came to mind. 

“She called him ‘Locutus’.”

“After the last time that Annika had met the admiral, she told me that Locutus was linked with and controlling all of the Borg, back when Wolf 359 happened.”

Kathryn turned, and walked toward the doors to the balcony that flanked the ballroom. She didn’t bother to look to see if Chakotay would follow for she knew that he would.

Once outside, they kept their voices low, for there were other couples milling about the balcony as well.

“What are you doing here, Chakotay?” Kathryn was in no mood to dissemble.

“I am teaching several courses at the Academy for the next few terms. Admiral Siktui also asked me to work on the Delta Quadrant Project.”

Kathryn grimaced. “I’m one of the project’s coordinators, Chakotay. In fact, it is the main reason that I am stationed on Earth for the time being. However, I was not aware that you were joining our team.”

“Siktui’s offer only came this morning. But Annika and I had already decided a few weeks ago to come to the Academy; to accept the teaching position. We want the baby to be born on Earth,” Chakotay explained, inwardly wincing at the way Kathryn was receiving this news. For he knew his friend too well. When she was this icy - this proper - she was hurting. Well, so was he. Matters weren’t helped by the knowledge that he had brought this debacle upon himself. He knew now that a few unwise decisions made in the heat of passion would now haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Husband, there you are,” a voice that seemed to be filled with a very human vexatious tone called out. A strident Annika and a sheepish looking Jean-Luc Picard approached the couple. Annika had not realized that her rather loud, called-out announcement had drawn attention to all of them, which was something that he knew Chakotay and Kathryn definitely would not have wanted.

Immediately, Jean-Luc took a protective stance by his date even as it looked for an instant, that Chakotay would protest this action. But then the captain had thought better of it. Of course, Seven noticed her husband’s action as well.

“It’s good to see you again, Annika,” Kathryn softly said, as she tried to judge how the former Borg was progressing with her pregnancy. And to smooth over the awkwardness of this situation, considering how many prying eyes were now observing their interaction. “How are you feeling?”

“I do not like being pregnant. It is most uncomfortable at times. And it upsets my efficiency projections.”

There wasn’t much Kathryn could say about that. 

“My wife Beverly mightily complained when she was pregnant. Still, she worked through her eight month. And then after the twins were born and when they were squalling in tandem, she referred to her months of being pregnant as ‘the good old days - the quiet good old days’…”

Startled, Kathryn realized that this was the first time she had ever heard Jean-Luc refer to his late wife so casually. And it was the first anecdote he had ever told her about his life with Beverly.

Annika relaxed a bit as she realized that Kathryn’s attention was now focused on Jean-Luc Picard instead of her own husband. Deciding that now would be an excellent time to leave before Chakotay could talk some more with Kathryn, she turned to her husband and announced, “It is time to go. I feel ill.”

Suddenly solicitous, Chakotay turned to attend to his bride, even as a more cynical part of his mind wondered if Annika was manipulating him again.

“I agree. It is time to leave,” Jean-Luc quickly agreed. 

But again, Kathryn surprised him. Playfully flirting with Jean-Luc, she teased, “No, Jean-Luc. I want to dance at least one more dance. Listen to what they are playing…”

His eyes lit up even as he watched Kathryn being to sway. “A samba!”

Chakotay quickly decided that he had better leave - now. “Good night Admiral Picard. Kathryn.” With that, he ushered Annika toward the cloak room.

After they left, Jean-Luc quietly spoke. “Do you really wish to dance?”

Kathryn continued to sway. “Jean-Luc, I love to samba.”

And much to Jean-Luc’s great relief, and pleasure, Kathryn really did enjoy this dance. She was even better at it than him. She inspired him.

So they heated up the dance floor.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc was somewhat surprised that when he escorted Kathryn to her door, that instead of saying polite nothings by way of good night, she just simply grabbed the front of his white dress uniform jacket, and dragged him inside.

And thus began a pattern of life that suited both Kathryn and Jean-Luc. On most Saturdays, they would date; going to concerts, the theatre, or the occasional obligatory cocktail party. 

And afterwards, they would end up at her apartment. He would stay through Sunday morning.

Until the Saturday afternoon when Jean-Luc invited Kathryn to join him horseback riding along the beach at Picard House. Somehow, with the twins visiting their aunt and uncle again, Jean-Luc found himself showing Kathryn about the complex, including guiding her through the largest of guest houses that was part of Picard House, located on the far side of the garden. One kiss led to another, and it wasn’t until a chimed warning, early Sunday morning, that Jean-Luc was alerted to the fact that Kathryn spending the night in his arms had not gone unnoticed. For Ludvig had beamed over a coffee service, a tray full of waffles, warm syrup, fresh fruit, and an assortment of breakfast pastries.


	11. Idylls and Picnics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc and Q both get to meet the family.

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 11

Idylls and Picnics:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“Talaxian?” Jean-Luc continued to bend over and scrutinize the garden tag on a hand-thrown large pottery planter.

Kathryn looked up from reading her messages on a padd, stretched out a bit more on the blue and white upholstered lounger, and agreed. “Talaxian tomatoes.”

“A Delta Quadrant specialty?”

“It took the Fleet exo-botanists eight months to ascertain that these seeds could be safely planted on Earth without any harmful effects to our agricultural eco-systems.”

“Only eight months?” Jean-Luc mused as he straightened up from examining the six identical planters that adorned Kathryn’s apartment balcony with each containing a seedling. “You must have thrown your admiralty weight behind the inquiry in order to speed up that clearance.”

“Indeed I did. Voyager’s former chef, Neelix, grew those tomatoes from the very first days of our hydroponics’ bays. The only time they ever caused harm was when Neelix cooked with them trying to ‘improve’ their flavor.” She still shuddered at the thought of what the Talaxian had done to the fresh tomatoes. “The tomatoes turn red fairly quickly. You can pick them small. Or wait a few more weeks and have a gigantic slicing tomato worthy of a sandwich made with my mother’s home made multi-grain bread.”

Jean-Luc wryly smiled. “I take it that you are very fond of them.”

“You will be too, once you taste one.” Her grin turned playful. “Besides, tomato salads are one of the few foods that I can prepare that I cannot ruin.”

He sat down on the lounger that was directly next to Kathryn’s position. “I look forward to the experience.” He thought for a moment. “If they are that good, I happen to know a fairly large garden plot in LaBarre, that wouldn’t mind a few seeds.”

Kathryn warmly smiled. “I would be glad to provide your family with a few seedlings.”

“I will ask Marie.”

“Marie?”

Jean-Luc heard the unspoken question in her voice. “My brother’s wife. A most outstanding woman.”

“I know who she is. I was just questioning why your tone of voice always changes whenever you speak of her.”

“Marie is a most remarkable woman who is far too good for my brother, Robert.”

Kathryn had to laugh over that statement. “I see that you’ve never quite made your peace with your brother. I can remember you complaining about him years ago.”

Jean-Luc harrumphed. “I did no such thing.”

Kathryn countered with, “Right. Just like I never complained about Phoebe during those late shift bull sessions so long ago.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “We both have been blessed and cursed with siblings.”

Jean-Luc had to agree with that. Then he looked off into the view, quietly comparing the scenes of buildings and more apartment buildings that could be seen from Kathryn’s balcony, to the views that he could see from the terrace at Picard House. He took a deep breath before rapidly saying, “Kathryn, come live at Picard House.”

His words truly surprised Kathryn for she had not anticipated such an invitation in spite of the fact that she’d already spent more than a few nights in the guest house.

Standing she walked over to the railing and looked down onto a view that did include the marquee of her favorite coffee shop. He joined her.

“Living with you or living in the guest house?” Kathryn finally asked.

He froze. He had not even considered the possibility of her first suggestion.

That was answer enough for Kathryn. She hugged him. “Jean-Luc. Neither one of us is quite ready for that kind of major life change.” She reached up and kissed him lightly. “Let’s not rush into anything.” Then she impishly grinned. “But thank you for offering.” With that, she pulled him into a kiss of desire that would reignite fires that had only been recently damped down.

After a few more raw, passionate kisses, they went back inside for more privacy.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

She rested her head against his naked shoulder as they rested on her bed. Kathryn had not realized how much she had missed having someone with whom she could intimately talk. Jean-Luc was filling her life in ways that she had been forced to deny for so many years. And she was very appreciative of him and his efforts.

“Jean-Luc…”

He opened an eyelid. He recognized that tone of voice. Kathryn was about to suggest something that he might not like. “Yes?”

“Pheebs is throwing a birthday party for my nephew Scott - the third - next weekend at their farm. Scotty is turning six.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure what Kathryn was suggesting.

“And I was wondering if you’d like to bring the twins and join me for the party and the barbecue afterward, next Saturday.”

He was silent for a while before responding. “You want me to formally meet your family?”

“Well, you’ve already met Pheebs. If she doesn’t scare you away, I don’t think that there is anyone else in the family that will frighten you - except maybe Aunt Bertha after her first bottle of vodka. And Pheeb’s husband Scott is a dear.”

“There is your mother,” Jean-Luc interjected. “I have it on good authority that your mother even frightens Winnie.”

Kathryn giggled at this thought. “Well, Mother used to scare Admiral Wiley when my Father was alive. She probably still does. My Dad used to call her his secret weapon…”

“That I can well believe.” He nodded before he lifted himself up a bit by his elbows to study Kathryn’s face. “If you truly want us to be there, we would be happy to come. Provided your sister agrees.”

“Who do you think suggested it in the first place?”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc and his twins directly transported to the McCall farm, though Jean-Luc had spent most of the morning reviewing all of the rules of party behavior with Anna and William.

“I believe that there will be ponies,” Jean-Luc informed his children as they walked up the path to the gate guarding the front yard. Sounds of laughter and children squealing could be heard coming from behind the house. “No showing off,” he warned William. For he knew the daredevil nature of his son and how well both children had learned to ride. “The birthday boy - Scott - is six. And presumably, he knows how to ride. But other guests may not.”

“Understood, Papa,” William politely replied, though even his Papa realized that the boy was far more interested in the party going on in the distance, than in anything that his father was saying.

“I mean it, William. Behave.” For Jean-Luc was somewhat afraid that being an admiral’s son might sometimes encourage both of his children - though usually William - to turn into brats. He couldn’t help being surrounded by toadying officers to scheming cadets. It was one of the hazards of his job and rank. And more than one ambitious person had thought that using his children was an easy way to achieve Jean-Luc Picard’s favor. Unfortunately, one of the results of this political environment were two very smart children who had been very quick to realize the advantages of such situations. And how to use those advantages whenever they could get away with it.

“Admiral Picard.”

So intent was the admiral upon the proper behavior of his children, that he had not even noticed Gretchen Janeway approaching him.

“Mrs. Janeway, may I present my children - Anna and William.”

The lady was amused by how nervous Admiral Picard seemed to be, even as she knelt down to briefly greet and hug both children. “Kathryn has told me very little about you two. I am looking forward to getting to know you.” She straightened up and looked directly at Jean-Luc Picard and added, “And you, as well, Admiral Picard. Kathryn has told me very little about you too. Though others have been most willing to fill me in with mostly boring details.” She observed the admiral visibly gulp. “Come. Kathryn is in the back doing everything she can to try and avoid any possibility of having to cook something.”

Jean-Luc had to chuckle over this statement.

She looked at him slyly, trying to take the measure of this man. “I take it that Kathryn has cooked for you?”

“I have not asked it of the lady, for we were on assignment together many years ago, and I, to this day, distinctly recollect what she did to simple oatmeal.”

“Was that during her ‘I have multiple doctorates behind my name. This replicator will obey me!’ stage?”

Jean-Luc nervously laughed even as he let his children’s hands go since they desperately wanted to run around the ancient farm house. Jean-Luc and Gretchen proceeded at a much slower pace as they approached the party.

“Well, Kathryn never quite said it like that…”

“Well, Admiral…”

He interrupted her. “Jean-Luc.”

She accepted his invitation. “Gretchen.” She granted her permission.

“Gretchen.”

“We’ve got beer, wine, some Risian cocktails that Phoebe made that I have yet to gather the courage up to try, iced tea, lemonade…”

“Iced tea is fine.”

“A man after my own heart.”

She put her arm through his as she guided this admiral toward the aunt who was trying to organize the first of the planned games for the birthday boy and his guests.

Kathryn looked up as they approached. She appeared to be somewhat harried as she held parts of bots to a game that had yet to be completely assembled. “Oh, am I glad that you are here. Do you know anything about how this game works?”

Jean-Luc knew that his son had this very same target game so he called out for the expert, “William…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc marveled how a farm in Indiana could be so similar and yet so different from a vineyard in France. He was strolling with Kathryn, down a path that ran parallel to the stream that went through an apple orchard. The moon was high. Soft spring breezes were causing pink petals to flutter about their footsteps. And it was a perfect night - especially since the twins were fast asleep on a sofa in the farm house under the watchful eye of Gretchen.

“I like your family.” Jean-Luc’s words broke their comfortable silence.

“That’s because you’re a guest,” Kathryn darkly replied.

“Your mother asks guests to take out the trash?”

“She didn’t!” Kathryn stepped in front of him, resting her palms on his chest. “I am so sorry…”

“I didn’t mind in the slightest. Your mother is a no-nonsense sort of woman. And I can respect her attitude.” He leaned in toward Kathryn to whisper, “As I do appreciate her daughter…”, before he kissed her cheek.

Kathryn snuggled closer. “Well, since she didn’t politely suggest that you catch the next transport out of here, I guess that my mother likes you too. She doesn’t ask just anyone to take out the trash to the recycler…” She reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Hold that thought,” he teased. “I have to get my whirling dervishes home.”

“You don’t want to stay the night? I promise that Phoebe won’t embarrass us too much in the morning. I know where all of her bodies are buried. And when I was in the Delta Quadrant, I used to dream of my mother’s pancakes…”

He shook his head. “I am expecting Will and Deanna Riker for lunch tomorrow. You too, if you are so inclined.”

“So off to San Fran you go.” Kathryn clearly did not want him to leave. She took a step back. “Do you need any help in getting the twins home? I could carry one of them…”

“I wouldn’t refuse any offer of help…,” as Jean-Luc anticipated a passionate moment or two with Kathryn once the twins were in their beds. “Besides, I am looking forward to Will’s version of how you stood him up.”

Kathryn was just about to tell Jean-Luc the truth about Will Riker when they were interrupted.

“Aunt Kathy!” a voice called out from a few meters away in the darkness.

Startled, Kathryn turned toward the voice. “Junior? What are you doing here?”

Jean-Luc mentally groaned as he realized that this voice was far too low to be that of a six-year-old boy. It had to be Q’s son.

Junior came into view. “I came with Q. He is playing with Billy Bob, Anna and Scott. I came to fetch you, to, uh…”

“Where did they go?” was a shrill cry heard in the darkness. And then there was the sound of chaos.

“Uh oh…,” Junior mumbled.

Kathryn groaned. So did Jean-Luc, for he could pretty accurately guess what it was that Q had just done. He ran toward the farmhouse with Kathryn and Junior close behind him.

Once he crossed the threshold, it was as Jean-Luc suspected. All that were in sight were two very upset parents, and a grandmother.

“Q!” Jean-Luc groaned again. “Not to worry,” he loudly declared. “The children are safe.” Six sets of eyes looked upon him with misgivings.

“That… that… monster…,” Phoebe managed to burble.

“Q takes Anna and William fairly often. He always brings them back unharmed,” Jean-Luc tried to explain.

“Takes them where?” Gretchen coolly asked, since Kathryn had told her a little about Q in the past, and now that Kathryn was here and since she did not seem unduly perturbed, things might not be as traumatic as they seemed...

“Usually flying,” Jean-Luc admitted.

“But they just disappeared!” Scott the second, protested even as he tried to comfort his visibly upset wife.

It was Kathryn’s turn to speak calmly; authoritatively. “Q is a semi-omnipotent being who has a lot of special powers. Believe it or not, he is a friend of mine. Sort of.” She motioned toward Junior. “This young man is Q’s son and my godson. Q won’t hurt Scott. Or the twins.” Though the way she was looking at Jean-Luc, made that man squirm. He had clearly forgotten to mention one or two little details to her.

“Dad’s not going to like you calling him semi-omnipotent,” Junior warned.

“I’ve called him worse,” Kathryn countered.

Nodding, Junior added, “True.”

Gretchen was shocked. “You cursed in front of this young man, Kathryn?”

Junior chuckled. “No. Aunt Kathy just did her best to expand my Fed Standard vocabulary.”

Deciding that the situation was getting out of hand, Jean-Luc interjected, “Q usually takes them away for about an hour, and then brings them back. Though all of the children will probably be too excited to want to go back to bed when they return.”

“But why would this Q just take our children without asking our permission?” Phoebe protested.

“I have had that conversation with him in the past. He’s supposed to ask,” Jean-Luc admitted. “I will discuss it with him when they return.”

“No, Jean-Luc. I will discuss it with Q when he returns.” 

Jean-Luc almost felt sorry for Q as he studied the expression on Kathryn’s face.

Junior was looking forward to observing that scene.

True to Jean-Luc’s prediction, the children materialized about an hour later. But there was no Q in sight.

“Q!” Kathryn Janeway called out above the clamor of the children trying to tell the adults where they had been. For little Scott had never flown through an asteroid belt before, much less played tag there, without having to wear a space suit or have the benefit of a shuttlecraft. 

“Q!” she called out one more time. “Get your ass down here or else!”

This time Q heeded the warning and appeared.

But it was Phoebe who harangued Q first. There is no force in the universe which contains more fury than that of a mother with Janeway blood in her veins, whose only child was kidnapped in front of her nose.

Fascinated, Jean-Luc, Kathryn and Junior watched as Phoebe ripped into Q. When she finally was tired from all of her verbal flagellating, Kathryn stepped in to take over. 

By this time, Q said the one thing that few beings other than Kathy, had ever heard him utter before. “I’m sorry.”

That shut Kathryn up. And sent Jean-Luc in search of a beer to salute this momentous occasion. Phoebe’s obliging husband handed Jean-Luc an opened bottle as he watched the Janeway sisters handle the situation. He had started relaxing the moment Jean-Luc had proffered his explanation so he was being somewhat entertained by the scene as well.

After a few more minutes of being called an ossified, ogiastic, yemeless witling, or variations thereof, Q finally reverted back into being Q. He roared “Enough! I said I was sorry!”

“And you promise never to do it again?” Phoebe just had to add.

For a moment, Q just glared at her before grudging admiration crept into his expression. “By the Q, you are a force to be reckoned with! You must be a Janeway!”

“You know very well that she is,” Kathryn wearily responded.

A fancy red velvet cape suddenly appeared about Q’s shoulders. With a flourish he swirled it, before kneeling directly in front of Kathryn’s sister. “You are a true princess worthy of a Q!” He clasped her hand and kissed it. “Run away with me!” He commanded.

‘You’ll give me every little thing that I want?” Phoebe sweetly asked.

“Of course! The universe is yours, my little Denevian dumpling! I will be your devoted slave…”

“No thanks,” Phoebe cheerfully answered. “I already have all that I want from the universe…”

“You Janeway women! Always turning me down.” Q stomped out the door. Surprisingly, Kathryn followed him.

“Q!”

Halfway down the path to the front gate, Q stopped and turned to glare at Kathryn. “Have you come to mock me in my hour of despair, Kathy?”

“No. Not at all. I was just going to suggest try bribing my sister with champagne, chocolates and diamonds. Pheebs has always been partial to such things. It might work on her.”

“You’d help me usurp your brother-in-law? I thought that you liked him.”

“I do. But Scott is not you.”

Q wouldn’t argue with that logic.

“You’d help me win the heart of your sister even after all that we have meant to each other?” Q was incredulous.

“Of course. My sister deserves the very best. Try the heart shaped bed with the red satin sheets strewn with red rose petals too…”

“Mariachi bands?” a voice from behind Kathryn suggested. “I know that when you tried that on board the Enterprise, your mariachi band made for a most memorable occasion…”

“Oh, you two lovebirds,” Q complained, before he clicked his fingers and disappeared.

“I don’t know who you hate more - Q or your sister,” Jean-Luc observed. 

“I like Q and I love my sister.” Teeth gleamed in the dark. Her grin seemed fiendish to Jean-Luc. “Besides, Pheebs will enjoy the attention… And they both deserve each other’s company.” Her smile broadened. “Maybe after a few meetings with Q, my sister will finally believe some of the stories that I’ve been telling her about life in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Remind me never to cross you, Kathryn,” Jean-Luc mildly remarked as he escorted Kathryn back into the farmhouse in order to retrieve his children.


	12. In Way Too Deep and It's Hot Water Too!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Pulaski shows up to annoy Jean-Luc Picard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I remind readers that I am a P/Cer. (BEG)

DETACHED:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 12

In Way Too Deep and it’s Hot Water Too!:

=/\= =/\= /\=

Admiral Catherine Pulaski smiled at the lieutenant standing on duty by the transporter controls. She didn’t remember his name, but she knew that she had seen him before on duty at Picard House.

“Welcome back, Captain Pulaski,” the lieutenant politely stated. 

Politely nodding, and accepting the fact that she was dressed in civvies which included royal blue pants and a bright yellow and white patterned tunic, she nodded toward the young man as she stepped off of the platform. “It’s Admiral Pulaski now, much to my misfortune, lieutenant…?” 

He quickly replied, “Sorry, Admiral. I did not know. And it’s Lieutenant Malcolm Reynolds.”

“Hopefully, I can surprise Jean-Luc with my promotion.”

The lieutenant grinned, for it was well-known gossip that Admiral Picard and now-Admiral Pulaski did not always get along too well.

“I am sure that the admiral will be pleased,” the polite young man replied.

Catherine snorted. “You’re a good prospect for the diplomatic corps, young man.”

“That is my goal, Ma’am.”

Still smiling, Catherine checked the estate map and noted that Jean-Luc and others were poolside. Since she was rather familiar with the estate, for during the later stages of Beverly’s difficult pregnancy she actually had lived at Picard House, by Jean-Luc’s invite no less, Catherine chose the outside garden pathways to reach the swimming pool, patios and surrounding gardens off of the back terrace to the house.

Her first sign that she had been sighted were two high pitched squeals of, “Aunt Cathy!” And then two wet five-year-olds in swim suits, piled into the arms of one of their favorite people for hugs and kisses.

Over by the pool, Catherine heard a distinct loud groan, as Jean-Luc Picard wearing grey swim trunks, got up from the lounger where he had apparently been sunbathing, displaying a surprisingly still fit body considering his age. Under an extended canopy, Catherine noted the presence of another woman reclining on a lounger, wearing a discreet cherry red tank swimsuit.

“Doctor! What brings you here?” was Jean-Luc’s way of greeting the lady.

Kathryn was somewhat surprised by how annoyed her lover sounded.

“Stay for lunch! Stay for lunch!” the twins cried out as they still clung to the lady, in spite of the approach of their father.

“Why Jean-Luc, I’d love to stay for lunch,” Catherine quickly replied, even as he grunted something inaudible. 

Kathryn covered her mouth with her hand in order to smother a smile. Clearly this woman was a thorn in Jean-Luc’s side.  
,  
“Go tell Ludwig that I am here,” Catherine instructed the twins. Both of them raced off toward the kitchen wing.

Standing, Kathryn wrapped a floral patterned turquoise pareo about her waist before she approached them. “Hello. I’m Kathryn Janeway.” She extended her hand, which the other Catherine gleefully shook as she thoroughly inspected this legendary admiral, and then nodded as if reaching some conclusion

“I’m Catherine Pulaski.”

“Doctor Pulaski is one of my former CMOs,” Jean-Luc grudgingly explained.

“On board the Enterprise-D.” Catherine’s smile only broadened. “Ah, those were the good old days.”

“You were barely there a year! And there was little good about it.”

“True. As I recall I did make the mistake of saving your life on occasion.” This time his grumbling was more audible. Ignoring Jean-Luc’s attitude, Catherine continued. “And then, when Beverly became head of Starfleet’s Medical Fleet, she picked me as one of her hospital ship’s captains.”

“A wise choice,” Jean-Luc agreed.

Both ladies eyed him; one pair of eyes brimming with disbelieving mischief.

“Got me out of your domain. Right…,” Catherine acknowledged.

By this time, Kathryn could barely control the laughter that was threatening to burble up.

“So why have you come?” Jean-Luc sounded decidedly grumpy by now.

Catherine’s expression softened. “I’ll tell you after lunch, Jean-Luc.” She patted his bare arm.

“Harrumph.”

Kathryn quickly spoke up. “Would you care for some iced tea or lemonade?” She inspected the lady again and then glanced back over at Jean-Luc with an understanding expression on her face. “Or do you need something more fortifying?”

“More fortifying, if you please. Being in Jean-Luc’s presence brings back the need for something definitely more…fortifying…” Catherine was pleased to note that now Jean-Luc seemed even more annoyed. “But I can wait until lunch. Ludvig usually stirs up a pitcher or two of Rigellian passion fruit punch for me.”

“I take it, Captain, that you are not on duty.” Jean-Luc did not even attempt to disguise the ice behind his statement.

Catherine tried to hide her glee at Jean-Luc’s choice of words. “Alas, I’ll never be on duty as a captain again.”

Kathryn was a bit confused by the way Jean-Luc was reacting. At first, he seemed inordinately pleased, and then he looked as if he’d just been hit by a phaser blast not set on stun.

For Jean-Luc had figured it out.

“Oh no. Winnie didn’t…” His voice trailed off.

Catherine couldn’t help but look like a Vulcan cat who had just swallowed a barbecued sehlat. Whole. “Winnie did.”

“But…”

“At Utopia Planetia, yesterday. The formal announcement will be hitting the airways later on today, not that anybody pays any attention to Fleet announcements.”

Having known how unpredictable Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley could be, Kathryn figured it out as well. “You’ve been promoted? Congratulations!”

“Yep. I’m a rear admiral, now - just like the three of us.” She pointedly looked at Jean-Luc. “Don’t cha just love it, Johnny?”

Kathryn thought she heard a rather vulgar Klingon curse cross over Jean-Luc’s lips. Lunch was going to be very interesting…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Catherine Pulaski walked about the Arts and Crafts style library. It had always been one of her favorite rooms in this house. Though rumor had it that after Beverly’s disappearance, Jean-Luc rarely entered this room. Still, this was where Jean-Luc had asked her to go when she told him after a divinely delicious lunch that they had a little official business to discuss.

Jean-Luc entered the room. He had changed from his swim trunks and robe into a very casual red tropical shirt and khaki shorts. He noticed Catherine’s surprise at his choice of wardrobe.

“Kathryn and I are taking the twins to ride their ponies on the beach after their nap.”

“You don’t need to explain your life to me, Jean-Luc.”

He grunted. “If I don’t, your conjectures will only be worse than the reality.”

Since that statement was true, Catherine said nothing more.

Jean-Luc went over to a bookcase by the fireplace and pushed a secret button which then opened up to reveal a hidden bar.

“Aldebaran?” he politely asked, since he recalled that Catherine usually drank it during their past meetings.

“By all means, Jean-Luc. Make it a double. I don’t have to report back on duty until Wednesday.”

He poured two doubles, since though he was going to be on duty come Monday, Catherine Pulaski’s presence usually required a double at least in order for him to politely endure her company.

Catherine accepted the cut crystal lowball glass, and took a long sip of the green whiskey. “I take it that your Kathryn is an Irish whiskey sort of gal?”

“Indeed she is.” Jean-Luc took an appreciative mouthful of his own drink. “But every once in a while, there is nothing quite like a good Aldebaran whiskey…”

“I agree.” Catherine, without being asked, automatically took a seat on the sofa by the fireplace. “Sit, Jean-Luc. We have a little business to discuss.”

After he was seated as well on the far end of the sofa, Catherine kept on sipping her whiskey until Jean-Luc blinked. “Well, Catherine?”

Catherine placed her drink on a coaster by a side table. “It’s about the new fleet of galaxy class hospital ships that are coming down the line, Jean-Luc.”

“I’ve heard about them,” Jean-Luc cordially replied, even as he relaxed, since this topic did not seem to contain any confrontational subject matter. “Twelve more new ships, I believe?”

“Yes. With certain admirals squawking over every new one too.”

“I can imagine.” Jean-Luc nodded, knowing full well how many admirals were upset over the idea of non-defense orientated galaxy class starships being built. “I’ve received notification from the hospital ship command that two of these new ships are going to be major research vessels as well.” He eyed Catherine. “I take it that Command is you, now?” 

“Yep. I’m the new head of the medical fleet, much to Jamie Howard’s dismay.”

Jean-Luc couldn’t help but chuckle for his relationship with Doctor Jamie Howard had always been a strained one. Jamie Howard was a distant cousin to Beverly, who occasionally came by to see the twins. Jean-Luc had never cared for the arrogant surgeon’s company especially after he had learned that Jamie had been Beverly’s former lover as well. The man had broken Beverly’s heart when she had been a teenager, and for that cruelty, Jean-Luc would never quite forgive him - or trust him.

“I take it that Jamie thought that he should be in charge?”

“Well he was the boss pro tem for a few months before Admiral Olvekz. But when that man retired, I think that Jamie thought that he was at the top of the promotion list. Winnie proved otherwise.”

“If Dr. Howard had any sense of Winston’s nature, he would have known that he didn’t stand a chance to get that promotion - especially after Howard made a pass at Lwaxana.”

“Well the jury is still out on that tale, though Winnie did believe Lwaxana’s version…”

Both of them laughed together. For Lwaxana’s flirtatious nature was well-known amongst those who knew her. Of course, Winston Holt Wiley was just as bad. So in a weird sort of way, Winston and Lwaxana were a well-balanced couple who had far more in common with each other, than what there appeared to be on the surface. Somehow, that marriage had survived and even thrived for more than four years.

Jean-Luc put down his glass. “I take it that you wish to incorporate a cadet rotation onto these ships, aside from the normal medical and science assignments?”

“Correct. I’d like it to be all-encompassing including command as well as diplomatic and tactical cadets to be posted for tours of duty. It wouldn’t hurt for all those cadets beyond the sciences, to see what is needed in medical emergencies, disasters and epidemics.”

“I agree.”

“Ah, if only you said those words more often to me, Jean-Luc…”

He only glared as he finished off his drink.

“Would you care for some more whiskey?” He always was a polite host in spite of his personal inclinations.

“Of course, Jean-Luc. I never say ‘no’ to the good stuff.” She noticed when he poured, that he only refilled her glass.

When he was seated again, she continued. “Now, as to what I really came here to discuss.”

“I was suspecting that there was more, since everything that we have discussed so far could have been done with memos.”

She leaned forward and touched his knee, as if to warn him.

“Jean-Luc, they want to name the flag ship of this new fleet after Beverly.”

He instinctively froze. He had not even conceived of this. Not yet… 

“Usually, it takes decades before…”

“I know. But since Beverly was the main creator and driving force behind the hospital fleet, quite a few of us thought that it would be appropriate.”

He still sat there as if he were truly shocked.

“Jean-Luc, if you truly don’t wish this, I can put the kibosh on it. At least, I can do it for a few years, at any rate.”

He stood, and started aimlessly moving about the room, as if all he could focus on was Catherine’s words. Finally, he spoke. “What name…”

“Well, that’s mainly why I am here. The U.S.S. Beverly Howard Crusher Picard, is quite a mouthful. The Doctor Crusher in some ways, seems the most appropriate since Beverly used that professional name for several decades. The U.S.S. Beverly Picard or Crusher-Picard might end up being a bit confusing especially if, as typical, the ship’s name gets shortened to the U.S.S. Picard.”

Jean-Luc sat down again, nodding in understanding of this problem. “I can just imagine what Woody Nakamura would say about having to call a ship The U.S.S. Picard.”

“Yeah. Not even I’d like to be around him when he has a chance to opine about it - especially after his fourth bourbon.”

He eyed Catherine. “Do you have a suggestion?”

“I was just thinking about using her full name with the moniker of the U.S.S. Beverly.”

“The Beverly?” He thought about it for a while. “I think that Beverly would have liked that. Beverly was never one for pretensions when they weren’t absolutely necessary. And she always asked her patients to call her by her first name…”

Catherine stood. “I’ll go with her first name, but I will still give you a while to think it over before I make a formal announcement. If you wish to discuss if further, just call me. And if it means anything, Wesley said that he would agree with whatever it is that you would pick. But I think he liked the choice of his mother’s first name too.”

“Thank you… Catherine.”

Even after the lady had left the library, Jean-Luc still sat there in silence, contemplating this honor that Starfleet was giving Beverly. And what it really meant to his wounded heart.

=/\= =/\= /\=

The last thing Catherine Pulaski expected when she left the library was to be hijacked by the twins who clearly were not taking their naps. 

“Come quick!” Billy Bob pleaded, grabbing her hand.

Anna overlapped her brother’s words with, “MommaKath is sick!” Even as she tugged the doctor toward the terrace, she added, “She got dizzy!”

“And barfed!” Billy Bob just had to add.

A few minutes later in the main guest lodge, Catherine Pulaski eyed Kathryn Janeway. She’d heard enough about this officer’s willingness to cooperate with her doctors, so that she knew that Admiral Janeway’s name was prominently posted on the underground doctor’s ‘Top Ten Most Difficult Command Patients’ list. Janeway’s name was even higher on the list than Jean-Luc’s name.

From somewhere, and Catherine didn’t ask, Anna produced a medical tricorder. After a preliminary scan of the lady stretched out on a sofa, who still had a decidedly greening tinge to her complexion, she shooed the twins out the door and told them to wait for her instructions.

Sitting down on the edge of the sofa, the doctor did a much more thorough scan of the lady.

“You’ll live,” Catherine announced since she knew that her patient wasn’t asleep.

Kathryn opened her eyes. “It must have been something I ate.”

“Or didn’t eat,” Catherine countermanded. “You’re almost eight kilos underweight. Combine that with the strength of Ludvig’s coffee, the richness of his quiche and pastries, and your inclination to work yourself to death with the added bonus of too little sleep, I’m not surprised that you got nauseous.”

“But I’ve been gaining weight the past few weeks! Ludvig keeps bringing me all that delicious food. He even beams lunch over to my office when I don’t come over here.”

Catherine eyed her patient warily and double-checked her tricorder readings. “Maybe I should call Joe.”

“You know my EMH? And don’t send for him.”

“He’s your primary physician, isn’t he?”

Kathryn warily nodded. “Yes. When Joe isn’t doing research at Utopia Planetia, he takes care of all of the Voyagers who are in Sector One.”

Catherine nodded, even as she scanned Kathryn one more time.

This annoyed Kathryn. “Well, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Maybe I really should call Joe.”

Before Kathryn could stop her, Catherine pulled out her comm badge, and tapped it. “Lieutenant Reynolds, this is Admiral Pulaski.”

The head security officer of Picard House responded. “Yes, Admiral?”

“I am sending for a doctor known as Joe Zimmerman. He’s an EMH. And will be beaming in momentarily. Please permit him to come and beam over to my location.” A minute later all was arranged.

And even as Kathryn protested and tried to sit up, Catherine kept the admiral on the sofa, though she did motion for the twins to come back into the room. “Go to Ludvig and ask him to bring over a pot of tea and plain toast for Admiral Janeway. Don’t say anything to your papa until after I am done here.”

After two sets of worried looks, the twins scampered off.

“Those kids care for you,” Catherine observed, even as she gave Kathryn her best doctor’s evil ‘don’t you dare even think to try it’ grin, every time Kathryn tried to rise.

“I like them,” Kathryn admitted, as she reluctantly acknowledges that she’d finally met a doctor that she couldn’t intimidate or reprogram. “They are great kids.” Kathryn struggled to raise herself up onto her elbows. “Now I know why they wouldn’t call me ‘Aunt Kathy.’ That’s their name for you.”

“Oh, the twins have their own name for you, Kathryn.” Catherine hid her surprise as recognition dawned. “I have a feeling that little Anna has figured things out on her own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kathryn Janeway was beginning to be very irritated by this bossy woman, as well as now completely understanding why Jean-Luc did not speak too fondly of Catherine Pulaski.

The EMH beamed into the living room. “What is the nature of this emergency, Admiral Pulaski? Why did you summon me so abruptly?” he asked in his usual annoyed tone of voice. And then he saw who the patient was. Somehow, he wasn’t that surprised. “Kathryn! What’s the matter?”

“You tell me,” Admiral Pulaski archly replied as she handed the EMH the medical tricorder and scanner.

After a moment, all he said was, “Oh my.” The look that he sent over to Catherine was full of hidden meanings.

Kathryn was now officially, royally pissed. “Tell me!” she ordered in her best superior officer’s voice, since technically, she was the senior officer present.

Catherine ruefully nodded in agreement. “You do the honors, Dr. Zimmerman. I’ll go make sure that you’re not interrupted.” With that, Catherine Pulaski gathered up her tote bag and left the guest lodge, wanting to catch the kids before they interrupted the EMH.

“What?!” Kathryn barked.

The EMH sat down next to her and clasped her hand.

“It’s not the flu, is it?” for Kathryn was beginning to put two and two together herself.

“You’re pregnant, Kathryn.”

“I thought that I was pre-menopausal.”

“Well, if you had ever showed up for any of your scheduled office visits, I could have told you otherwise.”

Shaking in disbelief, with her adrenaline rush deserting her, she whispered, “How did this happen?”

“Well, when the mommy kisses the daddy so that he wants to insert his…”

Kathryn resorted to physical violence against her former ship’s physician. He was actually shocked by her reaction for he had hoped that his humor programming was improving.

“Maybe we’d better continue this discussion in my office,” the EMH suggested as it was Kathryn who hit her comm badge for the transport.

=/\= =/\= /\=

“Where’s Admiral Janeway?” Jean-Luc stepped under the wide blue and white striped awning as he watched Billy Bob wolf down a slice of toast covered with loganberry jam. The fact that his son had eaten lunch less than an hour ago didn’t seem to matter to the kid.

Anna looked up from her tea party that she was preparing for her Klingon action figure dolls. “She left. Aunt Cathy said to tell you that she’d call you later.”

Jean-Luc wasn’t quite sure which Cathy would be calling him. Though it was highly unlike Kathryn to just leave without saying goodbye.

“She barfed,” William piped up. At the moment, the boy was in the obsessed with bodily functions stage of his childhood.

“What?” This stopped Jean-Luc in his tracks. “Was someone ill?”

“MommaKath was sick. Aunt Cathy said that she drank too much coffee, worked too hard, didn’t sleep enough and shouldn’t have eaten Ludvig’s pastries,” Anna informed her father. “Aunt Cathy yelled at MommaKath the way that she yells at you. She must like her.”

“A most dubious honor,” Jean-Luc muttered to himself. He tapped his comm badge. “Lieutenant Reynolds, where did Admiral Janeway go?”

“She went with a Dr. Zimmerman and beamed over to his office at Starfleet Medical.”

“Where did Dr. Pulaski go?” Jean-Luc could not quite wrap his tongue around the title ‘Admiral Pulaski’ just yet.

“Uh…”

He heard the nervousness in the lieutenant’s voice. “What did Catherine Pulaski tell you to tell me?”

“Uh, Sir…”

“Was it really that bad, Lieutenant Reynolds?”

“Stop poking your narrow, skinny nose into my business. That’s what the admiral said.” The young man rushed these words.

Jean-Luc shook his head, though not quite in disbelief since he was well familiar with Catherine Pulaski’s charming personality. He knew that regardless of the rank, Catherine Pulaski would always tell him off. “Thank you, Lieutenant Reynolds.” 

“Can we ride our ponies now, Papa?” both twins chorused together.


	13. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna's pregnant. And then there are the clues and conjectures about what really happened to Beverly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I plotted two separate stories belonging to Jean-Luc and then Beverly, there will be overlapping plot lines mainly concerning the Enterprise. I mean, you have to pick the cavalry and organize the cavalry before the cavalry can come to the rescue, right?

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 13

The Plot Thickens:

=/\= =/\= /\=

Quark sat there and sat there, watching the video that one of his great-great uncles had sent him. He watched it over and over again. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he was watching, but he knew he shouldn’t pretend that he had not received much less watched his cousin Ev’s memorial vid. For it was his extended family’s custom to put together memorial videos showing scenes from the departed’s life in which the deceased got to brag and lie extensively about all the profits and successful deals that he had made in his life. And for the heirs to try to glean clues for any more profits from these deals.

Though he was profit-orientated to a fault, after all these years of owning a bar on Deep Space Nine, he had acquired the annoying Hu-man concept of debts of honor. And Quark knew that his conscience would nag at him if he didn’t act. Finally, he made the arrangements to place a deep space call.

For he did owe the lady…

Besides, if he was right, high-ranking Starfleet officers would be indebted to him. And he could always make a profit off of that…

=/\= =/\= /\=

Captain Riker carefully shifted his weight. He was in bed with his pregnant wife, and she was currently using his bare chest as a pillow as she slept. He didn’t wish to awaken her, for Deanna was in the first trimester of her pregnancy, and had already spent too many hours of their usual sleep period having to run to the bathroom for several reasons. Will Riker had not quite realized until now how taxing being pregnant could be on a woman’s body - especially if the child-to-be was going to be both part-Betazed and part-Human.

“I’m awake,” lips mumbled against his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Will whispered before he reached over and picked up his comm badge.

“Captain?” The even-toned hale of Riker’s first officer was heard again.

“What is it, Mr. Data?”

“You are receiving a personal call from Deep Space Nine.”

Since Deanna was already awake, Will sat up and swung his legs over the side of their bed.

“Captain Ro?” She seemed the most obvious choice of callers, especially since Will had always considered her to be a friend in a rather unusual and round-about sort of way.

“No, Captain.”

Deanna suddenly stirred and dashed into the bathroom. One glimpse of Deanna’s pale face, and Will didn’t have to guess why.

“Who is it, Mr. Data?”

“Quark.”

Of all the names he might have expected to contact him from Deep Space Nine, Quark’s name was not one of them.

“Did he say why?”

“Something about paying back an old debt.”

Now that bit of information did intrigue Will Riker. “A Ferengi is going to pay back an old debt without threat of imminent bodily destruction? Will wonders never cease.” Will stretched and picked up a gentian blue tunic from the foot of the bed that he threw over his head and pulled down, for Will usually liked to sleep in the nude when he was with Deanna. “Put it through here, Data. Thanks.”

Seated at his desk, a moment later Quark’s image appeared.

“Captain Riker…”

“Hello Quark, what can I do for you?”

“I owe you, Captain Riker.”

“Indeed you do, Quark. Ten bars of latinum, I believe.”

“Well, I’ll pay you the latinum when I see you.”

“Oh?” Riker was beginning to wonder why he was wasting his time. For the captain of the Enterprise-E always had too much to do even without the added, time-consuming complication of a pregnant wife.

“This is something else, Captain. I owe a debt of honor, and this might be my way of paying it back.”

“You couldn’t take it to Captain Ro?”

“I think that you are the man who should investigate, Captain Riker.” Riker could tell that Quark was deadly serious which was an unusual attitude for the Ferengi - at least around Will. “I’ve attached a file to this call. After you check it out, contact me.” With that, Quark disconnected the call.

And Will Riker was wondering what the hell was going on for a somber Quark was not someone with whom he had been previously acquainted.

Will watched the video snippet. And after the second viewing, he hit his comm badge. “Mr. Data, Commander LaForge, Dr. Selar, and Dr. Ogawa - meet me in the senior officer’s lounge in one hour.” The fact that he was waking several of his senior staff up, did not matter at all to Will Riker.

Deanna came out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat relieved from the nausea. She had overheard two of the names called to the meeting. “You’ve not called a doctor’s conference just because of my morning sickness?” She was somewhat wary at the moment, because she was sensing that her husband’s mood had gone from mildly amused and then annoyed to gravely intent.

Ignoring his wife for a second, Will hit his comm badge again. “Dr. Selar, Deanna is suffering from nausea again.”

“I am authorizing an anti-nausea hypo spray to be beamed to your replicator,” Selar coolly responded.

A moment later, it arrived. Deanna picked it up and gave the hypo spray to Will to administer.

“I won’t be mother-henned,” she warned Will, even as she began to feel better almost instantly from his ministrations.

He briefly kissed his wife’s cheek before saying, “We have to get dressed, Deanna. You need to be at the meeting that I’ve just called, too.”

She could feel her husband’s consternation. “What’s happening? What could Quark have possibly said to you?”

“It will be easier to tell all of you together,” Will grimly replied.

Less than an hour later in the senior officer’s conference lounge, the Captain of the Enterprise announced that this meeting was off the record, and then showed the vid. For a moment, no one said a word. They were all too shocked.

“Is that Beverly?” Will demanded of his senior staff who all had known quite well, Beverly Howard Crusher Picard.

Will looked over at his Exec. “Data, analyze that vid every which way you can. Geordie, work with him. Doctors, try to determine if the woman in the background of that video matches the physical parameters for Beverly.”

“Do we know when the video was taken?” Dr. Selar asked.

“Not yet. But we will find out,” Will confirmed.

“And if it is Beverly?” Deanna asked, for the image of an almost completely nude woman serving drinks to Ferengis and aliens from unknown species in the background of what appeared to be a tavern setting, even as a Ferengi boasted on a video about his enormous profits in the foreground, was almost too much to comprehend. But the woman did somewhat look like Beverly.

All of them glanced again at the frozen image of a tall woman with long red hair. She wore gold chains about her neck, waist and bare breasts. A shear pale blue chiffon type mini-skirt was her only clothing. For most of the short vid, this woman had kept her head down, and acted in a subservient manner. Only once did she stare directly at the console into which Ev was speaking, and for that moment, her eyes blazed with defiance.

The video was not of the best quality. Serious analysis was needed.

“Give me all that you can in twelve hours.”

“Should we call Worf?” Geordi asked. For Worf was on special assignment teaching at the Academy for the current term.

“If that woman really is Beverly, I’ll go to Admiral Wiley myself to get the orders to investigate - officially or unofficially. And discuss this with no one - especially Admiral Picard. So no, we don’t tell Worf, just yet. This could be nothing more than another wild goose chase. And I’m not about to put our admiral through any more hell until we are absolutely certain of our facts. He’s been through too much already.”

=/\= =/\= /\=

Fourteen hours later, Captain Will Riker contacted the head of Starfleet, who just so happened to be his step-father-in-law, Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley.

“Captain Riker.” Winston was his usual jovial self in private, for he enjoyed his talks with his step-son-in-law. Of course, he had completely forgotten his original negative reaction to Will the first time Jean-Luc Picard had suggested to Winston that he wanted Riker as his Number One when Jean-Luc was picking his senior staff for the Enterprise-D.

“What can I do for you, Will?”

“Winston, Deanna and I thought that we’d come for a visit. Very soon.”

Winston paused, studying the face of the man on the view screen. The words were convivial, but the man’s expression was not.

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No, Sir. In fact, for Lwaxana, the best of news. Deanna wants to tell her mother in person.”

Again, Winston observed the man’s face, and knew that whatever was going on, it was serious. And it was something that this captain did not wish to discuss over an official Starfleet channel, in spite of the fact that it was encrypted.

“Well, any news for me?” Winston just wanted to check Riker’s reply to confirm his suspicions.

Again, Will sounded cordial. But his look said otherwise. “I’ve got some Bajoran cigars that you might find… intriguing.”

Will’s slight emphasis on the first two syllables of the word ‘intriguing’, spoke volumes to the man who had spent decades dealing with internecine plots of all kinds. And survived.

“When can we expect you?”

“Well, the Enterprise was on an emergency mission to Bajor. Dr. Bashir needed some medicines that he could not replicate, and my ship was the closest with the meds in stock. Afterwards, I decided that now might not be a bad time to get some scheduled routine updates and repairs to the ship. And to grant a fourteen-day rotating crew shore leave on Deep Space Nine or Bajor. My crew hasn’t had a real shore leave for more than five months and since everything on the Enterprise’s schedule is routine for the next few weeks, I decided to give my crew their shore leave. In fact, Deanna and I are taking fourteen days off as well. We should be arriving on Earth, in my captain’s yacht in three days.”

“No objections to any of that, Will. Should I tell Lwaxana that you’re coming?”

“Let’s surprise her, Winston.”

Winston’s smile was broad. “I do understand, young man. It is not often that one can surprise Lwaxana.”

“Oh, Winston, I’d like to surprise Jean-Luc too.”

The admiral nodded, a bit confused by this request, but agreeing to it.

“I’ll not say a word. Would you be up to it if I scheduled an Admiral’s Round-Up poker game during your visit?”

Will laughed out loud, the first truly genuine emotion that he’d displayed during this conversation. “Get ready to lose your credits - Sir.”

=/\= =/\= /\=

Days later, Will parked his captain’s yacht, the Elizabeth Moon on a pad that was located toward the rear of what was essentially Winston and Lwaxana’s back yard. For captain’s yachts were rarely as big as an admiral’s personal ship, so there was plenty of space at Winston’s house.

Of course Lwaxana has sensed that Deanna was nearby. But she hadn’t a clue as to why Will and Deanna had shown up so unexpectedly until she felt a glimpse of Deanna’s joy.

“I’m going to be a grandmother!” was Lwaxana’s greeting to her daughter as she nearly smothered her daughter to death in a big, overpowering hug after she raced outside to greet them. When she finally let her daughter up for air, she then turned and bear-hugged Will. “I finally knew that you would be good for something!”

Will could only roll his eyes. Winston did the same as well. The admiral wasn’t exactly surprised for he well knew that there was only one thing that Lwaxana had really wanted from her daughter’s marriage - a grandchild.

As they went inside the mansion, Winston did not bother to notice the staff from security to groundskeepers who were constantly present. But the staff noticed. And thus the gossiping started.

=/\= =/\= /\=

“Fifty-seven point two percent chance,” Will Riker grimly stated. “According to Data, that is, that the woman in the vid is Beverly.” Will glanced about the Fleet Admiral’s private retreat in the sub-basement of the man’s mansion. In Starfleet, it was probably one of the most secure locations on Earth. The mahogany paneled room was officially Winston’s play room with a full length bar, professional class pool table, and more than one poker table for when the admiral felt like holding a tournament. But with the push of a button, panels would slide, and the room could turn into a command center if necessary.

“What, you didn’t memorize the additional decimal points?” Winston snidely asked as he smoked a surprisingly smooth Bajoran cigar. “I am sure that Mr. Data always gives them.” He eyed his son-in-law and observed, “You’re slipping, my boy.”

“I had more pressing matters, Sir.” Since this was Starfleet business by Will’s definition, he was in his officer’s mode at the moment. In spite of the fact that he had a double shot of his host’s black label Canadien whiskey sitting in a glass by his fingers. He had yet to touch it.

“What did your doctors say?”

“Dr. Selar worked with Beverly for several years. And Alyssa Ogawa was Beverly’s head nurse before she became a doctor after Beverly disappeared. They both knew her well.”

“So did you, if certain Trill rumors that never quite made it into Jean-Luc’s official logs, are correct.”

Will grimaced. “Unfortunately, Sir, I was under the domination of the Trill Odan. I don’t remember much when it comes to specific details about Beverly’s body, Sir.”

“Pity. Though if you only had sex with the lady that once…,” He eyed Will questioningly before a slightly embarrassed captain nodded, “then I can understand not remembering too much about the encounter.”

“Both doctors agree that it could be Beverly. But they cannot say positively that it is Beverly. For one thing, this woman is about three kilos heavier than the last officially recorded weight for the lady. Her height is in question as well since it is impossible to tell whether or not the woman is wearing high heels or walking bare foot.”

“And you wish to go to Ferenginar to investigate a phantom who might look like Beverly because…?”

“There is the chance that she is.” Will leaned forward, as he now chose to drop the most important pieces of information that Data and Geordie’s most intense scrutiny had uncovered. “But, there is another concern - a greater concern.”

“And that is?” Though he didn’t show it, Winston’s convivial attitude had vanished, for he knew that Will had discovered something of importance.

“Though the figures are not in plain sight, there are four Romulans in the background. And two of them appear to be high-ranking officers, if Data has analyzed the highlights off of their uniforms correctly.”

Winston slowly sipped his whiskey, thinking. He knew the likelihood of Data making a mistake. “When was the video made?”

“We don’t know, Sir. Our copy is a very poor one, with most of the embedded data missing or corrupted.”

“And Data wants to get his hands on the original copy if possible.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Romulan officers and Ferengi are a worrisome mix, Will.”

“I know, Sir.”

“You have a plan?”

“I will take Quark with us to visit his home planet.”

Winston considered things some more. “You’ll take Lwaxana with you as well,” Winston firmly stated.   
Will tried not to blanch. “Why, Sir?”

“I want Wesley to go. But Jean-Luc might get suspicious if I just send Wes. But if I send Lwaxana with Wes as her adjutant, then you have a diplomatic reason to start meddling and Lwaxana can ask a meddling question with more subtlety than anyone else I know. The lady truly does know how to ferret out the most amazing pieces of information without seeming to be questioning at all.”

Will somewhat shuddered at the thought of all four of them on his captain’s yacht for seventy hours.

Somehow, Winston knew exactly what Will had been thinking. “I’m sending the Exeter-D to ferry you back to DS 9. That ship is a lot faster than your captain’s yacht.” He reached over and patted Will’s arm. “I wouldn’t trap my worst enemy in a scout ship built for two with Lwaxana for several days - much less a pregnant Deanna with a hovering Lwaxana. I want you at the top of your game, Will.”

“How much official authority will I have?”

“Meaning?”

“Diplomatically speaking, Winston.”

“Lwaxana will have the full authorization of my office if she chooses to call upon it. So will you, if it becomes necessary. Nothing would please me more than the recovery of Beverly - or at least finally finding out what happened to the poor girl. I really liked her…” He glanced toward the frozen holographic video. “If that poor woman is Beverly, I shudder to think of the hells she been trapped in since she disappeared.”

“As do I,” Will whispered almost to himself.

“But if it is Beverly, she didn’t get where she is by mere happenchance. If someone did this to the K’Tosh, I want them caught, and punished, by whatever means necessary. And if there are Romulans involved, well the flagship of the fleet has the authority to call upon the rest of the Fleet if needs be.”

Winston Holt Wiley’s words were deadly serious. And then he smiled. “I’ve invited Jean-Luc over for poker in two days.”


	14. Reality Hits Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc learns a few things. So does Worf.

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 14

Reality Hits Home:

=/\= =/\= /\=

Not that Jean-Luc would describe the mood that he was in as ‘upset’; he was just out of sorts. Though he had yet to consciously admit it, the reason for his bad mood was simple. Three days had passed since Kathryn had left, and the lady had yet to return one of his calls. Oh, on Sunday evening, one of Kathryn’s people, an ensign named Tal Celes did call him to inform him that Kathryn had been unexpectedly called back to Indiana for a minor family crisis and that the admiral would call him soon.

Still, Kathryn’s absence from his life was forcing an unexpected, undesired introspection of his relationship with the woman upon him. And when all was said and done, Jean-Luc realized that he missed Kathryn. A lot. And this was not an emotion that he had been expecting to feel at all.

Of course Kathryn did finally return his call - when he was in a meeting concerning the disciplining of some cadets who really should have known better than to try to out-logic a Vulcan professor who did not find their practical joke on him to be the slightest bit educational or amusing. The fact that the joke had included a purple and pink spotted Rigellian goat, the decimation of one of Boothby’s favorite herb gardens by said goat, and the evacuation of the west wing of the exo-biology lab, did not bode well for the miscreants - especially given the Superintendent’s pissy mood. Spending their off-duty time pulling weeds on the Academy’s ground under Boothby’s supervision was not a punishment that they had been anticipating - especially since they were condemned to do it for the remainder of the current term and the next two terms as well.

Picard was even more disgruntled over the fact that his duty had caused him to miss this call than he was willing to concede. It took Mildred to casually mention it to him as the lady placed even more padds to be perused and then signed, upon his office desk in order to bring matters to the forefront. 

“She’ll call back.” 

He glared at the growing stack of padds even as he walked away from his replicator and sat back down at his desk, clutching his security blanket of a steaming mug of Earl Grey.

Mildred was dogged in her determination to bedevil - or confront, her boss. “Or, you could call her now.”

“I’m working, Mrs. Krebs,” he gruffly stated, trying to pretend that he was not irritated by Mildred’s nosiness. “I will call Admiral Janeway when I return home this evening.”

“I think that all of your staff would agree that calling Admiral Janeway right now is official Starfleet business.”

He finally raised his eyes to glare at Mildred. “And precisely what does that statement mean, Mrs. Krebs?”

“That none of your staff likes to be around you when you’re in a royal snit?” she simply suggested. “And anything that you can do to alleviate the problem is greatly appreciated since a trembling, gossiping staff is not a staff that is working at peak efficiency. Which therefore makes your calling Admiral Janeway Starfleet business in order to return your staff to peak efficiency.”

“Balderdash.”

“Well, that’s a nice archaic word. Been reading the twinnies Dickens at night?”

“When has this staff ever worked at peak efficiency? There are times I suspect that they spend half the day gossiping.”

“You call it ‘gossiping’; some of us would call it the acquiring of information. But it all ends up with everyone doing their best to serve you and the Academy. Never forget that - Johnny.”

“You should have put the Academy first. Then I might have believed every word that you said, Mrs. Krebs.”

She harrumphed for a change. “You want me to requisition Commander S’Rock from Winnie, and put him in charge of your office since you are forcing me to retire, Admiral Picard?”

Jean-Luc picked up his mug and took a sip before he casually asked, “Just what are you trying to impart to me, Mildred?”

Mildred relaxed. Once they were back on a first name basis, she knew that she could talk and actually get through to him. “I think that you’ve reached the point in your life, Johnny, where you should know what you want, very well.”

“Meaning?”

“Why are you with Kathryn Janeway?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Because she is convenient?”

“Of course not!” he retorted, somewhat insulted by this implication.

Mildred only smiled. “Well, if she’s more than just a friend to you, you’re going to have to ask yourself a very important question.”

He bit. “And that is?”

“Are you with Kathryn Janeway because she was once lost and then managed to find her way back home? Or because you really like her?”

He was stunned by Mildred’s suggestion, even as he recognized the possible truth behind her question - not that it wouldn’t take a Tarkanian wildebeest to drag this certainty past his lips.

“Kathryn and I have been friends for a very long time,” he admitted after a few moments of tense silence.

“Close friendship is not a bad foundation for something more,” Mildred readily agreed. “Lord knows; my third husband was also my best friend. I was never madly, passionately in love with him like I was with husbands number one and two, but when it comes to the man that I miss at night, it is always husband number three.”

He tried a misdirection tactic. “Why don’t you ever refer to your late husbands by their first names?”

“They were all named ‘Harry’,” Mildred sheepishly admitted.

Jean-Luc’s eyes widened as he took in this bit of information.

“Harcourt, Harrison and Harriman. Some would say that I was a creature of monotonous habit,” she observed.

“Annoying habits,” he muttered under his breath as he turned his attention back to his stack of padds as Mildred exited the inner office. 

And then he called Kathryn.

Later that evening he spent some time with Anna and William. After hearing about their day, checking the progress of the schoolwork that Ryllis had assigned to them, and finally acknowledging to himself that the twins would have to be enrolled in first grade in a few months, he casually broached the subject that had been on his mind most of the evening.

“Anna. William.”

Both children looked up from the Vulcan puzzle game they were trying to solve on the floor of their playroom. 

“Yes, Papa?” They chorused in unison. They had a habit of speaking in unison, ever since they had learned how to talk since they were still psychically linked. In fact, their telepathic and empathic abilities were the primary reason as to why they had not gone to pre-school or kindergarten with other children. They had been home schooled by Ryllis in order to be trained in how to control their abilities so as not to alarm anyone outside their family and friends. Their interaction with other kids had been strictly controlled especially during their toddler years.

Jean-Luc tried to phrase the next question as carefully as possible. “Do you like Admiral Kathryn?”

Jean-Luc did not notice the ‘I told you so!’ sly look of triumph that Lwaxana Marie Picard bestowed upon her brother, as she quickly spoke up. “We both like MommaKath.”

“MommaKath?” He was surprised by this choice of sobriquet.

“She’s going to show me her ship!” William proudly announced as he was the twin who always focused on what was important to his world.

“Why do you ask, Papa?” Anna asked, ignoring her bothersome brother for the moment.

Jean-Luc gathered his courage about him before he spoke. “I am wondering if you would mind ‘MommaKath’ moving in here with us?”

William spoke up first. “Goodie. She makes you laugh.” He didn’t have to add that a laughing papa was far more inclined to overlook his boyish indiscretions than the stern commandant who typically returned home from the Academy.

“And we like it when you laugh…” Anna’s words blended in with her brother’s words. For neither twin had needed Godmother Lwaxana’s coaxing to come to this right conclusion. They had done it all by themselves.

“I see.” Jean-Luc didn’t quite see, just yet. But he would. A sad thought crossed his mind as he realized how proud Beverly would be of her offspring right now, if she knew…

And how much he still missed her…

Two soft voices touched his mind. “Je t’aime, Papa… We miss Mama too…” And something that had been clenching inside his heart started to ease.

=/\= =/\= /\=

“Kathryn…” He whispered her name as he greeted the lady who was in the process of letting him into her apartment. “I was surprised by your absence. Is everything all right?” And then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her before she even had a chance to close her old-fashioned door or answer his question. 

Kathryn had not quite expected such an enthusiastic greeting from Jean-Luc. After relishing his kiss for just a brief moment, she tried to push herself away from his embrace. “Jean-Luc… we have to talk…”

“I agree.” He pulled her door shut, twirled her about so that she found herself pressed up against the inside of her front door, and then he kissed her again, this time pressing himself sinuously against her body; showing her how much he had missed her. For a moment, she was rather receptive to his actions for this man did have a way of breaching her defenses. “I missed you…”

“Kissing me senseless is your version of dialogue?” she just had to gasp when they both came up for air.

For a second he stepped back; he just admired her appreciating the way that she looked with her flowing white silk blouse with a high stand-up collar, and matching palazzo pants. She was all softness and loveliness to him at this moment. “It is one form of communication, mon cher.” His grin was devilish as he passionately kissed her again.

After their next kiss, she braced herself against him, shoving, and then more emphatically stated, “We really do need to talk, Jean-Luc.” She tried to move herself out of his embrace. His response was to sweep her up into his arms, and carry her over to the ivory and blue patterned sofa. “Now,” she added, even as she involuntarily trembled against the glide of his hand across her breast.

His response was to give her an even more sensual and arousing kiss, as his tongue coaxed her into cooperating with him. She sighed in his arms, before she tried to focus on what she needed to say.

“Marry me,” he whispered ever so softly against her ear lobe before he bit it, cutting whatever it was she was trying to say, short.

A few nibbles later she gasped, “What did you say?”

“Marry me, Kathryn Janeway,” he more firmly stated slightly amused that he had succeeded in surprising the lady.

To say she was flummoxed would be an understatement. Gazing into his eyes, with only a shocked gasp passing over her lips, she would have pinched herself if Jean-Luc would ever have let go of her hands. Instead, he was clasping them, as if to emphasize the intent of his words. 

He brought her right hand to his lips, and kissed the palm, lightly running his tongue over her moist flesh, before he lifted his head and smiled down into her confused expression. “I take it that you weren’t expecting a proposal?”

“Why?” was the word she finally forced her lips to say.

“Mon cher… I find that I like having you in my life. I can talk to you. And I most definitely appreciate what you have to say on occasion. On fundamental matters, we understand each other and seem to be in accord. And, more importantly, I find myself missing you when you are not around.” He looked away before he ruefully admitted, “I need you…”

“You didn’t expect that, did you?” Kathryn could be practical too, in spite of the fact that one of his hands was currently stroking a part of her anatomy that most definitely was responding to his touch.

He chuckled. “No, I did not. But, surprisingly, I found myself liking the fact that I did.” He glanced away again. “I will always love Beverly, but I am finding that my heart was not lost with her even though there was a time when I was positive that it had disappeared too. My heart has come back to life in your presence, Kathryn. For that, I thank you…”

Touched by his admission, she reached over and caressed his cheek. “I must confess that I am experiencing similar, bewildering feelings…” 

His response was to stroke her more purposefully. Guessing where this might be going, Kathryn reluctantly stayed his roving hand. “Jean-Luc, there really is something that I must tell you.” She gulped a quick shot of air, trying not to reveal her nervousness. “And I won’t hold you to your proposal after you hear what it is that I have to say.”

He removed his hands from her body, as he leaned back against the pale blue geometric patterned upholstery of her sofa, and smiled with the confidence of a man who was now sensing that all that he now desired was within his reach. “Kathryn… Speak…”

“I’m pregnant.”

=/\= =/\= /\=

Ordinarily, Commander Worf would be annoyed when summoned to come to a meeting without prior warning, and when there apparently was no eminent crisis. But today, he was not bothered by such presumptions for it was Captain Riker who had unexpectedly demanded his presence. Though Worf would admit that he had not been expecting their meeting to be on board the captain’s yacht in stationary orbit about Earth.

After Worf had watched the Ev memorial video, he slammed his hand with great force against the top of Will’s small conference/dining table. Glasses rattled on the sideboard. He now understood why Will had required such secrecy about their meeting.

Will brought Worf up to date. “So Worf, you think that the woman is Beverly, too.”

Worf verbalized his opinion with a grunt. He then thought for a moment before he finally spoke decisively. “You came to Earth to get Admiral Wiley’s permission to investigate.”

Captain Riker nodded. “Yes. Wiley gave it without hesitation. The Enterprise will follow every lead regardless of where it takes us. Lwaxana is coming with us as diplomatic cover since the search seems to involve several Federation worlds. Wesley will come too.”

Worf raised his eyes to study his friend and then he reached a conclusion. “You have not told Admiral Picard.” It wasn’t a question.

“Jean-Luc should know nothing of this until will have all the facts.” Will shook his head. “And even then, if it comes to naught or the worst possible resolution, we may not tell him.”

Worf slowly nodded. “If Beverly was a sex slave when this vid was made, then the odds are that she is probably dead by now. If that is the case, it would be better if the admiral did not know the details.” Worf paused as he considered things some more. “Does Wesley know yet?”

“Not yet. Holt doesn’t want us to tell him until after we are all on board the Enterprise.”

“Good.”

“You’re coming with us, Worf.”

He shook his head. “I have classes.”

“Winston Holt Wiley has volunteered to cover the two that you will miss before end-of-term when we leave.” Will’s smile was wicked. “I think that the head of Starfleet teaching a class in surprise tactics is a fine example of what you’ve been trying to impress upon the cadets.” Will added, “Your cover is that you and Wesley will be working for Lwaxana and her missions.”

“I will record the student’s final grades before I leave just in case the Admiral may have forgotten how to do so…” He eyed his captain, “I trust that you still know how to handle Ambassadress Troi with a minimum fuss?”

“Deanna is pregnant. There is little that Lwaxana won’t do for me now that she is expecting a granddaughter…”

=/\= =/\= /\=

Jean-Luc was very still as he tried not to overtly react to Kathryn’s news. Taking a steadying, controlled breath, he very cautiously asked, “And do you wish to keep the baby?”

Surprised by this question since Kathryn had already made up her mind, it took her a moment to focus. “Oh, Jean-Luc, of course I want this child. I never even considered otherwise…”

The man visibly relaxed and then he pulled Kathryn back into his arms. “Oh, Kathryn, a baby… Our baby…” There was an unshed tear in his eye as he commenced to kiss Kathryn with deep emotion. 

A long time later in bed, Kathryn lay there, quietly listening to the man in whose arms she was still embraced, slightly snore. She was brutally honest with herself as she faced the fact that this lover was not Chakotay; and now, it was very likely that Chakotay never ever would become her lover. Jean-Luc was a good man; a superior lover and yet, something elemental was missing. Still, he was such a lonely man. 

And she was so very lonely too and had been lonely for such a long time…

She considered how he had just made love to her. With a stunning gentleness and delicacy of touch that had bordered on the worshipful, she ruefully acknowledged that she had loved and responded to every moment of their passion. He cherished her. She would not mind living like this for the rest of her life. She wanted Jean-Luc Picard in her life.

“Made up your mind, yet?”

“What?” She raised her head and turned to observe her lover.

“Kathryn, there are some occasions in life when one should not over think things. 

“Meaning?”

“I don’t have to sell you on how perfect my house is for raising a child. I have a staff that can solve all problems for new mothers, not to mention a chef whose opinion of you is far greater than what he feels for me.”

Kathryn refrained from explaining that it was because Ludvig was a coffee aficionado too. She considered other matters. “One of these days, you’re going to have to explain to me how you have your own private nursery and pre-school…”

“That is a conversation for a later time. And it isn’t technically ‘private’. All of the Starfleet and civilian staff that has access to Picard House, may use it for their children.”

He could see that this statement puzzled her. “Boothby uses the acreage of the gardens as one of the major botanical nurseries for the Academy. He’s been doing that for years. The orchid house alone provides the flowers to many of the Academy housekeepers. Between that and my office and house staff, there have been a goodly number of babies who have been enrolled over the past few years.”

“I am not going to marry you because you can provide a live-in babysitter,” she primly informed her lover.

“Then I guess I had better play my trump card.”

She didn’t quite like the expression on his face. “And that is, Admiral Picard?”

“Ludvig will make you coffee whenever you wish it, Admiral Janeway. I have been assured in the past, that his decaffeinated blend is almost indistinguishable from his regular brew.”

Since it was Ludvig’s coffee, she could almost believe that statement. “You don’t play fair, you know that, Jean-Luc?”

“I will play this game between us any way that you wish, mon cher. But in the end, I intend for both of us to win.” He leaned over the side of the bed and palmed something from his pants pocket.

She sat up, ignoring the fact that the sheet had fallen away, and that Jean-Luc was sorely tempted to concentrate on visions of the flesh even as he tried to follow their conversation. 

“Jean-Luc, I have only one problem with us getting married.”

He almost pulled Kathryn back onto his chest, but then considered the words and her tone of voice. “And that is?”

“I don’t want to be engaged to you.”

“I… don’t see.”

She nodded, knowing that she had confused him for a change. “I’ve been engaged - twice. Neither occasion turned out well.”

“What then, do you propose?” He now had an inkling as to what her real fear was about their possible marriage.

“Let’s get married as soon as possible. Tomorrow?”

He blinked. He thought for a moment. And then a slow grin began to grow, as he rapidly considered options. “It just so happens that Will Riker and Deanna are in town visiting her mother…” His smile broadened. “I think that we can work something out if not for tomorrow, then most definitely, the day after that. But first, after we make love again, I will place a phone call to Marie…”

And with a deft move, he placed an emerald cut Burmese deep blood red ruby, flanked by two ascher cut diamonds, onto the palm of her hand.

“Marry me, Kathryn Janeway…”

“And we will all the pleasures prove?” she suggested, quoting Marlowe, as she inwardly gasped beholding the stunning, antique ring. She permitted him to place it on her ring finger…

He responded with deeds, not words. As did she.


	15. Circles Within Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrigue abounds. And Jean-Luc and Kathryn have a party.

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 15

Circles within Rings:

=/\= =/\= /\=

Mildred sat behind her crystalline desk in her office that was part of the Commandant’s complex at the Academy. Normally, when she was perched on this particular desk chair, she concentrated upon academy business. But today, was another matter. She reread the padd that was on her desk, and then commed her personal adjutant telling her that she should send in the officers who were waiting for her.

Commander Worf was the first to enter her office, followed by Commander S’Rock and Lieutenant Malcolm Reynolds. Ordinarily Commander S’Rock would open with a round of what - for a Vulcan - would pass as ‘small talk’. But one look at Mildred Krebs’ expression was sufficient for him to hold his tongue.

“You sent for us, Ma’am?” Worf politely asked, trying not to reveal any agitation over being dragged away from all the work that he had to finish before leaving for the Enterprise.

Mildred curtly nodded, as she placed her padd back down on her desk. When all three men were seated, she spoke. “As you probably know by now, Admiral Janeway will be moving into Picard House. I believe that the move will be of a long duration.” Mildred had her suspicions as to how permanent the move would be, but until Jean-Luc officially confirmed it, she was not open to verbally speculating.

“Do you wish for me to handle the logistics?” S’Rock politely asked.

“Yes. Admiral Janeway may wish to keep her apartment.” She looked over at Worf. “But that is not why I’ve summoned you here, gentlemen.” Her look seemed to harden as she glanced down at her padd again. Then she stared at Worf. “As you may know, there were two instances of mischief perpetrated against Admiral Kathryn Janeway. In and of themselves, they seem innocent enough. Both incidents were in the ‘mere annoyance’ category.”

“What sort of incidents?” Worf asked, somehow sensing that matters had turned serious.

“One of the admiral’s aides neglected to inform Admiral Janeway that she was entitled to her own admiral’s yacht. The other incident was again, the failure of said aide to tell the admiral that she had her own private, hidden apartment in the Asimov building, attached to her offices.” She looked back over at Worf. “Admiral Picard had asked me to investigate who was behind convincing this aide to commit these pranks.”

“And?” Worf respectfully asked.

“An Ensign Manion was identified as the likely perpetrator,” S’Rock explained. “I believe that she was under the influence of several anonymous admirals who might have erroneously believed that they should inconvenience Admiral Janeway.”

“Seemingly harmless hazing?” Lieutenant Reynolds suggested.

“That was my initial assessment,” S’Rock concurred.

“I take it that this is no longer the truth?” Worf observed.

“Ensign Manion was working a much deeper game,” Mildred firmly stated.

All three men immediately noticed the lady’s use of the past tense. They stiffened in their chairs

“What happened?” Worf spoke quite forcefully.

“Yesterday, while purportedly on leave on Risa, Ensign Manion fell from a third floor hotel balcony to her death.” Mildred glanced down at her padd. “According to the Risian authorities, the ensign was highly intoxicated when she died. I am having Starfleet medical do in-depth autopsy and toxicology reports. And of course, Security will be investigating.”

Worf grunted. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“An accident would be highly unlikely especially since Ensign Manion had not requested any leave, and yet was seemingly ordered to Risa - by someone.” Mildred allowed herself an expression of consternation.

“Who?” Worf and S’Rock asked simultaneously.

“So far, I have been unable to pinpoint the identity of any admiral involved,” Mildred explained. “And I have used a friend or two in Section 31 to investigate...”

Worf’s eyes widened, even as S’Rock nodded. The Vulcan was not surprised by Mildred’s statement one little bit.

“So, you’re admitting that Section 31 is not just a Starfleet legend?” Reynolds dryly observed.

“I never said such a thing,” Mildred quickly countered, daring the security lieutenant to contradict her.

“Of course, Ma’am,” the lieutenant quickly replied.

“Meaning?” Worf demanded to know.

“Ensign Manion was under the control of someone other than my original suspects. My old comrades are looking into the identity of her boss or bosses. Hopefully they will find something.”

Worf grunted again. “There is more.” It was a statement, and not a question.

“And?” S’Rock asked.

“In the months before Admiral Beverly Picard disappeared, she experienced several seemingly innocuous incidents as well, which, at the time, were never traced back to the perpetrators.”

Worf thought for a moment. “Why should Admiral Janeway be targeted?”

“Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, when he personally arranged and catered her promotion ceremony discreetly declared Admiral Janeway to be a close friend of his. The first incident occurred less than twenty-four hours later. The second incident happened after the two admirals became… romantic.”

Worf had not heard this bit of news for he had been too busy with his pupils to pay attention to gossip. He grunted his approval. It was about time that his Cha’DIch embraced life again. If Picard had been a Klingon warrior, he would have mourned the loss of his mate, and then gone out in search of a worthy replacement. For a brief moment, Worf honored the memory of K’ehleyr…

Mildred continued. “I personally do not believe in such coincidences.”

No one sought to disagree with her.

“Why would someone target the lovers of Jean-Luc Picard? Have there been any other incidents concerning other members of his family or his friends?” Malcolm Reynolds asked. “I’ve never been so briefed.”

“None that I know about,” Mildred admitted. “I believe that whomsoever is doing this is trying to inflict major personal pain upon the admiral. That could be why Jean-Luc’s lovers were targets.”

“Revenge,” Worf suggested. “There is someone from the admiral’s past who has been bent upon it...” He stilled when he realized how the facts to which he was privy could be connected. “A Ferengi… Daimon Bok…”

“Daimon Bok is in a Ferengi prison,” S’Rock coolly announced. Mildred raised an eyebrow. “When I first started to serve the admiral before the Enterprise D, I learned everything I could about him. And I apprised myself of everything since.”

Worf was impressed by this Vulcan’s diligence.

Mildred however, was not that surprised since she had personally worked with S’Rock for many years and knew exactly what kind of Starfleet officer he really was. ‘Thorough’ was usually the first word in all of S’Rock’s performance reviews.

Mildred stared at Worf. “Well, Worf, you know what to do.”

He accepted his assignment from this warrior woman. “I too, do not believe in coincidences, so, yes, admiral…”

Mildred froze for a second, before she permitted herself the luxury of a slight smile to cross over her lips for Worf was the very first officer brazen enough to ever challenge her over the possibility that such a title might be an appropriate way to address her.

Still, appearances must be maintained. “Nonsense, Commander Worf. I am nothing more than a simple secretary…”

It was Commander S’Rock who snorted in disbelief, for though he had never directly confronted the lady, he had long held his suspicions as to what Mildred Krebs had been earlier in her life. Or still might be…

After S’Rock and Reynolds exited the office, Worf stood there for a moment, debating what he should reveal to this woman whom he had first met through his mother, and then when he had helped Admiral Picard choose the original crew for the Enterprise D. He had long respected her for her ability and her cunning. He had trusted her for years. Still, he was torn by his oath to Riker to keep quiet about Ferengi matters. It was the fact that he did trust her that helped him reach a decision. Finally, he simply uttered, “Go see Admiral Wiley,” before he clomped through the sliding door.

=/\= =/\= /\=

Ordinarily, Mildred would have welcomed a break playing poker especially since the location for tomorrow’s game had been moved to Jean-Luc’s family home in LaBarre. But the lady was rather worried about recent events and really thought that she should stay closer to home and work on them even as she tried to figure out what Worf had meant by his cryptic words before he had left.

Contacting Winnie usually wasn’t a problem for Mildred. But apparently today, he had a busy schedule, and his aide-de-camp had suggested that she arrive early at the poker game.

But then, Guinan showed up at her office.

“You going to the poker game?” Guinan too-innocently asked.

“Winnie invited you too?” Mildred walked over to a sideboard and uncovered the tin box of chocolate chip cookies sans nuts that she usually kept on hand. She offered the box to Guinan.

“Yes, he did.” Guinan looked about even as she picked up her first cookie. “Where’s the bourbon?”

Mildred checked the clock on her wall. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day for bourbon?”

“It’s nighttime somewhere,” Guinan tartly observed.

“We’re all going to the poker game tomorrow afternoon. Odd time, that.”

Guinan raised a hairless eyebrow. “Dress up,” she suggested.

“For a poker game?”

“Whatever it might turn out to be…”

“Baldy’s engaged?” Mildred went trolling for information.

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Guinan observed, as she poured herself a second double shot of bourbon.

=/\= =/\= /\=

“Why would Jean-Luc request a ride on my captain’s yacht in order to get to the poker game?” a somewhat puzzled Starfleet captain asked as he watched his wife getting dressed.

“Mother wants to come with us too,” Deanna answered back, as she chose a rather loosely flowing aqua Grecian style dress to wear. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show.

“Something is going on?” Will persisted.

“How would I know?” Deanna coolly responded. “It’s not like Mother tells me anything of importance.” She took pity on her husband. “But I think that there is the possibility that Jean-Luc and Kathryn are going to be making an announcement tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Marie called me to tell me that they were going to be having dinner for all of us.”

“Whatever happened to serving pizza and star mix at a poker game…” Will shook his head as he watched Deanna throw a sparkly sea green shawl about her bare shoulders. “But that still doesn’t explain why Jean-Luc is hitching a ride…”

=/\= =/\= /\=

Guinan, Gretchen, Phoebe, Scott and Scotty, Wesley, Anna and Billy Bob were all crowded into his not exactly large captain’s yacht. William Riker would have turned to the man responsible for this crowd if it weren’t for the fact that the admiral was wearing his dress uniform and was currently being interrogated by everyone at once - all asking the same questions that Will Riker wished to ask. To make matters even worse, Will’s beautiful bride had an ‘I know something that you don’t’ expression on her face as she stood next to Worf trying to glean even more information. Worf was uncommunicative as usual.

Will grumbled loud enough to himself to be overheard. “Anyone else that I should beam up? We’ve got a meter or two of space still available…”

“Yes,” the voice behind him answered.

Will turned and was not that surprised to be toe-to-toe with Kathryn Janeway who also happened to be wearing her dress uniform. “You know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

Will waited. His former classmate and past ‘almost-date’ did not care to further her explanation.

“Well, what?” Will was trying not to sound overly impatient.

Instead of answering him, Kathryn turned away and went to grab Jean-Luc’s arm. She faced Will as she dragged Jean-Luc toward the man. “France has too many unnecessary regulations,” Kathryn guilelessly explained.

Will was almost ready to express out loud his confusion when Wesley stepped up. “Captain Riker, permission to beam aboard the Picards? And Admiral Wiley and the Ambassadress?”

Will stifled a laugh. “Sure, Wes. Why not?”

A moment later Robert’s booming voice could be heard, loudly complaining about just about everything. Winnie’s voice was the counterpoint as he was demanding to know why the yacht was in a ‘parking’ orbit.

That was when Jean-Luc took charge. “Quiet, Holt. You’re my witness. Silence, Robert. You’re my best man.”

Robert shut up.

Will froze.

Winnie went looking for this captain’s special stash of Alaskan whiskey, though he’d settle for Canadien if he found it. He knew it had to be somewhere on board the yacht for he had a pretty good idea of what kind of man, Will Riker was. And Will was the kind of officer who always had a hidden stash of potent potables somewhere on board his yacht.

Robert started sputtering as Kathryn addressing Phoebe began with, “And you’re my matron of honor.”

That was when Gretchen Janeway started crying out loud, for she now had a very good idea as to what was about to occur.

Midst the cacophony, Jean-Luc walked up very close to Will Riker, and explained, “Will, will you marry us?”

“I take it that you mean Kathryn?”

“Yes.”

Remembering what happened the last time that Will Riker made an off the cuff remark about Jean-Luc’s first marriage ceremony, the captain wisely held his tongue.

“Get it done, fast, Captain Riker,” the head of Starfleet commanded as he started pouring the first shot.

“Yes, get it done,” Marie sang out. “Monsieur Ludvig is almost finished with setting up the banquet.”

Winston’s ears perked up at the sound of a banquet by Ludvig.

Kathryn looked over at her soon-to-be husband. “Whatever happened to just a simple ceremony with family?” she softly spoke.

“Guinan and Mildred,” was Lwaxana’s quick response.

A minute later everyone was lined up the way they should be. Kathryn moved Anna and William to stand beside them on one side. Phoebe was next. Jean-Luc positioned Wesley to stand by Robert. Marie rested her hand on Jean-Luc’s shoulder, and Rene just giggled with delight. It was as a family that they faced Captain Riker together.

The formal words to a Starfleet version of a wedding ceremony were solemnly uttered by Captain Riker. Plain gold bands along with a ruby engagement ring were slid on to the proper fingers. The groom kissed the bride. The bride kissed the groom back. And there was general, overall joy being expressed before Wesley picked up his brother, placed him on the co-pilot’s seat next to the pilot’s position, and then maneuvered the captain’s yacht into a descending flight path to LaBarre.

In the years to come, his father’s wedding would always take second place to Billy Bob’s first time in a pilot’s chair when the ship was actually in flight.

Even as more libations were being poured, Admiral Wiley pulled Captain Riker aside, and quietly ordered, “Say nothing.” He didn’t have to specify what the order meant to Will.

Captain Riker glanced over at his wife. Only when she slightly nodded, did he reply, “Nothing good can come of speaking until we know…”

Then Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley walked over to the happy couple and heartily kissed the bride.


	16. The Lady in Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q finds a very unusual present for Kathryn as he congratulates the happy admirals on their marriage.

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 16

The Lady in Red:

=/\= =/\= /\=

Even though she was just a few weeks away from giving birth, Bronislawa Oleszewski-Ludvig was delighted that the Picards had asked her to play the organ for their wedding in the family church at LaBarre. Since the bride had vaguely said ‘something appropriate’ to Brawny, when she had asked what the admirals would prefer, Brawny chose music from the Classical era for the small ceremony. She performed several selections from the organ score of Handel’s “Fireworks Suite”. She also thought that it was a lovely ceremony - all things considered.

Because of the complicated marriage laws of France, getting married by Captain Will Riker on board his ship, had been the easiest way for the Picards to be officially and quickly wed under Federation law. This symbolic religious ceremony was being held more for the traditionalists in the groom’s family than for anyone else. 

Though in his heart-of-hearts, Jean-Luc Picard found himself to be more of a ‘traditionalist’ than he would openly admit. His children had been baptized in LaBarre’s church. And now, Kathryn was signing the church registry as his wife. She would sign a book whose previous volumes held the signature of all the Picard brides going back more than six centuries. One day he hoped that he would be around to see his son’s wife sign the very same book.

Phoebe Janeway McCall was rather amused that her sister who had always considered herself to be a rational, non-religious scientist had so easily acquiesced to Jean-Luc’s suggestion about the village church. She was finally beginning to think that her sister might actually be in love with Jean-Luc Picard if she was willing to put aside her attitude about religion for Jean-Luc - at least temporarily.

Marie sighed in contentment even as she automatically kept an eye on Anna, Billy Bob, Rene, Scotty and even Wesley. Minding children, regardless of their age, was ingrained behavior for Marie. Gretchen smiled as she watched Marie do what she was doing as well out of habit. Both ladies knew what it took to keep their families going. And now, they were a family together. And both ladies were very happy about this turn of events.

Gretchen eyed her new grandchildren. Those poor darlings definitely needed the guiding hand of a grandmother. She shuddered to consider what all of their ‘fairy godmothers’ had let them get away with over the years.

Robert Picard did not bother to hide his tears as he finally watched his brother respect their father’s traditional wishes. He also liked the bride too. If Kathryn could handle the challenge of bringing a lost space ship home, she stood a pretty good chance of bringing his brother back to enjoying life again. He also liked the fact that his brother’s new brother-in-law knew something about the plaguey difficulties of growing things.

Wesley felt conflicted about the marriage. He didn’t understand why it had been so rushed. But Anna had told him that she and Billy Bob had picked MommaKath to be their new step-mother. Wesley knew enough about his little sister to not ask how or why his sister had done the picking. He only just wished that it had never been necessary for Anna to go searching for a replacement mother in the first place…

Deanna was burbling. And dying to tell her husband what she had discovered, but as the wedding party walked back to Château Picard which was a family tradition after a wedding, she just couldn’t find a quiet place to tell Will that Jean-Luc was about to become a father again. She also sensed the conflicting emotions of the bride and groom. However, considering how well she knew and understood Jean-Luc Picard’s psyche, she trusted him with his decision to marry Kathryn Janeway. Kathryn Janeway on the other hand, was someone that Deanna decided to get to know better - as soon as she could.

Will, on the other hand, was just confused by the actions of two of his favorite admirals. Of course he wished them well. But he didn’t really understand what was going on with them. Still Worf seemed to approve of the marriage. And Will would always respect Worf’s opinion.

Worf was quite pleased with the marriage. He had approved of Kathryn Janeway as a starship captain once he had read the official accounts of Voyager. She had been a warrior woman protecting her own, worthy of a Klingon, in the Delta Quadrant. And when you added to that the mutual respect that she shared with her Klingon Chief Engineer, even without having met the lady, he knew that she was the right sort of Starfleet officer. After having met Admiral Janeway, and working with her at the Academy, his respect for her had only grown. Now that his Cha’DIch had married her, he considered her to be ‘family’, and he would defend her to the death.

As usual, Lwaxana thought that she was the one who had played matchmaker, and that she was personally responsible for bringing the lovers together. Now she would loudly tell everyone that she could corner how she had done it. Her husband knew better. Winston suspected that it was probably Guinan and Mildred that had been the true matchmakers, though he preferred not to know all the details as to exactly how they had done it. He did privately wonder if Lwaxana had used their guidance in trapping him into marriage. (Of course, this admiral had a bad habit of rewriting history according to the way that he preferred to recall it…)

Kathryn tried not to panic. 

What had she done? Was she out of her mind? 

Still, Jean-Luc’s arm was steady as they walked down the lane heading toward the Picard home. His innate courtesy and solicitousness were a reassuring fact that this man really was as good a man as he seemed to be. 

Even if she never fell madly in love with him, the potential for some sort of love - and a deep friendship - was there…

Jean-Luc tried not to panic. 

She is not Beverly… He tried to quell his automatic, instinctive thoughts even as he forced his mind to admit that Kathryn Janeway was an impressive, intelligent, extraordinary and beautiful woman. She was now his wife. And there was the baby to consider as well. 

He had done the right thing. Everything would work out, one way or the other…It had to… He wanted this… He needed this…

Mildred watched all of them approach the garden where everything was prepared for the wedding party. In slightly more than twenty-four hours, Ludvig, Guinan and Marie had pulled together a fine wedding party for everyone. Mildred wiped away a tear as she watched Jean-Luc and Kathryn come closer. She was pleased with the marriage of course. Neither admiral was meant to live alone. She just wished that tragedy had not been the bedrock of this marriage. She vowed to do her best to see that it did not influence the future destinies of these lovers.

As wedding parties go, this wedding was not as jubilant as Jean-Luc’s first wedding. Still, there was a joyful atmosphere as the guests relaxed and reacted to the reality of attending a surprise wedding. The party turned more festive as the good food was served and then the wine flowed. Of course, once the Picard wine was imbibed, things did get more lively, especially when Guinan, Marie, Mildred and Lwaxana began debating over who had actually won the matchmaker competition. Jean-Luc declined to comment. Kathryn bestowed upon all the matchmaking ladies her best captain’s ‘death’ glare. (Didn’t work.)

Not one of the matchmakers had bothered to consider the possibility that it was Jean-Luc and Kathryn who had actually arranged their own match - along with a bottle of Irish pot still whiskey.

The tiered miracle that was Ludvig’s masterpiece of a cake was cut and tasted by the bride and groom. Jean-Luc tried not to show any response to the fact that the Picard family traditional saber was used for slicing since it was also the same saber with which Beverly had cut the cake at his first wedding…

After all the traditions were met, including the bride and groom’s first dance upon the antique slate tiles that formed part of the terrace, Jean-Luc whispered to Kathryn that it was time to leave. She agreed rather quickly. They announced their good-byes to their friends and family from the top step of the terrace. That was all that Jean-Luc and Kathryn needed to make their escape. Jean-Luc privately did not doubt that once they were gone, there would actually be a poker game at one point during the night.

Jean-Luc and Kathryn managed to put the twins to bed, kissing them good-bye. Both quietly admitted to the other that they were exhausted as they got ready to leave. 

And then Wesley met them in the hallway by the twin’s bedroom. All the young man did was lean over and kiss Kathryn’s cheek. “Take care of them, please,” he whispered into her ear. 

Somewhat surprised, her reply just simply was, “I always will.”

Wesley accepted her promise before he extended his hand to his step-father. “The best of everything, Jean-Luc. Kathryn.” They shook hands.

“I believe we have already found it,” was the quietly spoken reply. Kathryn squeezed her husband’s arm, pleased with his words. And she was coming to realize that he really believed it, too. 

She had made the best choice…

Wesley smiled. “I believe you have. Bon chance…”

Then she reached over and hugged her new stepson (or whatever Wesley’s relationship was to her). And she kissed his cheek.

And then the newly married couple went off to Paris.

=/\= =/\= /\=

Jean-Luc finally was able to carry his bride across the threshold of their suite at the Hotel de Vendome. He hid his chagrin at the fact that it was Kathryn Janeway’s name that had procured their last minute reservation of the finest suite in the hotel. His reputation had not been sufficiently important enough…

=/\= =/\= /\=

A bubble floated by Jean-Luc’s nose. He did not mind. He was far too comfortable at the moment, to make note of such things. Kathryn was in his arms as they both rested in the massive marble whirlpool tub that they were enjoying in their suite as the bubbles roiled about.

The water jets were spritzing, the many glorious duets of NORMA by Bellini were being performed by a surprisingly good Klingon mezzo soprano playing the role of Adalgisa and one of Jean-Luc’s favorite Clarion bel canto sopranos singing Norma. And Kathryn was lightly dozing against his chest. For the moment, all was right with his world.

He began to really relax.

His nose tickled. Stirring slightly, Jean-Luc thought that maybe it was his bride. Instead, it was something worse. Far worse. It was a finger - a decidedly masculine finger.

“Q!” he roared when he finally opened up both eyelids.

The yelling was sufficient to wake up Kathryn.

She automatically tried to sit up. Jean-Luc held her back so that her breasts were still under the bubbles.

“Let me go, Jean-Luc!” she ordered.

“I’ve seen her in much less,” Q leered. 

“Oh, grow up,” Kathryn growled, as she reached for a bath sheet. Both men assumed that she meant the other.

Standing, Jean-Luc assisted his bride to her feet even as he shielded the sight of her from Q with his own naked body.

Bemused by her husband’s chivalry, Kathryn accepted his assistance as she wrapped the peach colored bath sheet about her torso. “What are you doing here, Q?” She tried not to let her irritation at his presence show.

“Why, your wedding of course! When my two favorite humans marry each other, I just have to do something to celebrate!”

Jean-Luc helped his bride out of the tub, and then reached over and grabbed a towel for himself. Considering how often Q had appeared in his life because of his relationship with the twins, Jean-Luc was quite used to Q’s presence at unexpected times.

Kathryn took continued note of Jean-Luc’s reaction. “Something tells me that you are more used to this than you led me to believe…,” she murmured to her husband. He had the good graces to look a bit chagrinned.

Q continued blathering. “Why, I am a friend of the family, Kathryn. Of course I drop by whenever…” Q airily waved his hand about.

“Q, why did you really come?” Jean-Luc didn’t bother to hide his weariness.

“I came to offer you a sensual honeymoon on my favorite pleasure planet! This naughty little world is not in this galaxy, but I can guarantee you that it is well worth the visit. I can have you there in a second!”

“Maybe when we’ve been married about ten years and are in need of an exotic honeymoon. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time to take you up on your kind offer right now, Q,” Kathryn quickly spoke up. “We both have to be back in San Francisco on Monday.”

“I can accommodate that.”

Sensing that Q was actually serious about the offer, Jean-Luc decided to placate the demi-god. “We do not have the time to consider your kind offer now, Q. But perhaps in the near future?”

Surprised that Jean-Luc was even considering his offer, Q nodded. “Of course. You two love-birds just need to let me know when.” Q glanced about the luxurious bathroom, paused a brief moment, and then nodded his approval about what he saw. “Almost acceptable,” he sniffed. Then he motioned toward the bedroom. “I’ve something special in there.”

Considering that the ‘something special’ could range from a bottle of wine poisonous to human beings (though to be fair to Q, he usually did supply the antidote when he did provide such refreshments) to a too-exotic, extra-large beastie-cat with big furry fangs, Jean-Luc naturally was somewhat hesitant to see what was beyond the door.

A moment later, Kathryn found herself dried off, wearing a ruby red evening gown. Flowing silk velvet, sleeveless, with a deep décolletage sweetheart bodice. With a flourish of the hand, Q arranged her hair into an up do that in no way, shape or form resembled Captain Janeway’s ‘bun of steel’.

Jean-Luc stopped being annoyed with Q as he beheld what Q had done to his bride. She was elegant. And Q escorted them both into the bedroom.

Kathryn caught sight of herself in a wall mirror. Even she was surprised at what the reflection revealed. “Q, the dress is lovely…?”

“Tish tosh. It’s merely the frame for the loveliness of you - and for this.” From out of nowhere, Q produced an almost full-length oil portrait on canvas.

Both Starfleet admirals studied it. 

Speechless.

“John Singer Sargent?” Kathryn finally whispered. “It cannot be.”

Jean-Luc walked up to the fairly large canvas and inspected it for several long moments. Remembering the authentic Faberge necklace that Q had given Beverly for her wedding present, he knew that anything was possible for Q.

For the portrait was of Kathryn Janeway, wearing her new ruby red evening gown, staring, in profile, off into the distance. It was very similar in composition and attitude, to one of Sargent’s masterpieces, ‘The Portrait of Madame X’.

Jean-Luc didn’t bother asking the obvious question - when did Q find the time to do this. He knew better. “I take it that you made a trip back to Earth’s twentieth century?” he too-casually asked Q.

“Of course. I became the artist’s patron.” Q paused for a moment. “Remind me at another point of time in our future, to tell you about Sarge. He was a character amongst all Earth men. The stories he told… Some of them were even more entertaining than mine. I have appropriated them, of course.” Q mentally shook himself as he actually remembered that he was interrupting a wedding night. He continued. “Eventually I talked him into painting a portrait in secret, for me. And since no one back then knew about the portrait, I didn’t violate any of your precious temporal rules and regulations.” Q seemed very proud of himself.

“But how did he know what I looked like?”

“I showed him a photograph of you at your best.”

Kathryn shuddered trying to decipher what that sentence meant.

“And you most definitely succeeded,” Jean-Luc spoke up, quite admiringly. “In fact, I think that this may be one of the best things that you’ve ever done for me - us.” Jean-Luc spoke with utter sincerity for was truly touched by Q’s surprising thoughtfulness. This painting most certainly was one of the most unique wedding presents that he had ever seen.

A thought crossed her mind. Kathryn suddenly grinned. It was a very evil grin. “I can hardly wait for Phoebe to see it. A Sargent…” Her sister would turn a hundred shades of green… She ran up to Q, hugged him and kissed him upon the cheek. “Thank you, Q. I love it.” Mentally she added: “Temporal nitpickers be damned…”

=/\= =/\= /\=

On the first morning of their honeymoon, Kathryn pretended not to notice that her new husband had had a short but private conversation in the bathroom - with the water running. She naturally assumed that he was planning a surprise of some sort, for her. She drew the line though, when he way-too-casually announced that he was going for a short walk. Alone. During their honeymoon. 

Somewhat amused by all of his fast talking maneuvers to get away from her, she finally let him off the hook when she casually suggested that perhaps she was going take another long bubble bath. And that she had a few calls to make.

=/\= =/\= /\=

Jean-Luc wasn’t that surprised that the manager and head clerk recognized him when he walked through the doors of Cartier. It hadn’t been that many years ago when he’d bought for Beverly, her ‘orchid’ suite of diamonds in this store. And subsequently, presents for Marie, Mildred and Anna.

So, they were always happy to greet him, especially when he’d called ahead, requesting to see something special in rubies.

After a few minutes, in a private consulting room, he was inspecting tray after tray of various rubies set in many style, mined on Earth and from the beyond. Several examples caught his eye. But remembering what Kathryn’s engagement ring was like, he wanted to find something memorable to accompany it.

Finally, he saw it. An eight carat, cabochon, natural star ruby set in an almost Vulcan style swirled collar, in a setting mixed with Berengarian opals and astral diamonds. It was classy, unusual, and discretely distinctive.

“If my wife does not care for it?” He casually brought this up, for even though he knew backwards and forwards Kathryn’s Starfleet persona, he still was not that well acquainted with her personal style.

“Naturally, she may return it.” The manager paused for a moment, then added, “Congratulations on your marriage, Admiral Picard. I take it that it was a private affair?”

Jean-Luc chuckled. “Oui. At my family’s Château. Yesterday.” He did not doubt in the slightest that this manager kept an up-dated personal dossier on every client that had walked through the front doors and so the man was a bit surprised by Jean-Luc’s marriage. He added, “To Kathryn Janeway.”

The manager’s smile broadened for Admiral Picard’s generosity toward the women that he loved was well-recognized by him. And a new bride would always encourage a bridegroom to be generous. “Shall I endeavor to find accompanying pieces if Admiral Janeway-Picard appreciates the necklace?”

Jean-Luc Picard would not begrudge the manager’s forwardness. He was just offering to provide the service for which Cartier’s was famous. 

“Oui. Merci.”

After the admiral had left, the manager turned to his assistant. “Send Admirals Janeway and Picard a bottle of the Picard Fin de la Marne brandy as a wedding present. To Picard House…”

=/\= =/\= /\=

“Annika.”

The former Borg drone merely nodded in greeting at the image of her former captain on her viewscreen in the living room of the apartment that she now shared with her husband. “I will summon Captain Chakotay,” was all that she said as she moved away from the desk.

Shaking her head at Seven’s abrupt behavior, Kathryn Janeway Picard patiently waited as she sat at a desk in her honeymoon suite. She was all alone for her husband was off somewhere on some sort of errand.

A moment later, Chakotay rushed into the room. He suspected that Kathryn would not be calling him unless it was important - and official Starfleet business. On that, he would be wrong.

Kathryn hesitantly smiled.

Chakotay drank up the image of her, even as he mentally chided himself for doing so. “Kathryn. You look well.”

“I am - well, that is.” Her smile broadened a bit. Then it softened. “I wanted to call you to tell you before Voyager’s biggest gossip did…” Her words were rushed revealing her nervousness.

“Tom Paris.” It wasn’t a question. He chuckled. “Don’t tell me that they’ve promoted you Vice-Admiral already…”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Not yet.” Then she paused as she just looked at him for a moment, mentally regretting all the words that she had never said to him. And then she drew on her inner fortitude to just say to him now, “Chakotay, I married Jean-Luc Picard yesterday. I just wanted you to know.”

He admirably hid his shock. For he could hardly complain, could he?

“Kathryn, this is… unexpected.”

“You know me, Chakotay. I convinced Jean-Luc that I didn’t want any more fiancées dangling around, so I talked him into marrying me.” 

Knowing her history, he could understand her reasoning. Still, it was a bit of an emotional shock for him.

“I thought that I should tell you first, dear friend, before I let Tom Paris know.”

“Yes, Tom will broadcast it to all the galaxies in a nano-second. Why Neelix would find out…”

She interrupted him. “There’s a bit more.”

“More?” He shook his head in mock disbelief. What more could there be?

“I am going to have a baby.”

For a second, Chakotay froze, completely oblivious to his surroundings, as his heart protested this news. For it should have been his child she was carrying and not some other man’s offspring.

“Congratulations, Kathryn. I am happy for you too.” With that he signed off, trying not to acknowledge how troubled he was suddenly feeling.

“What did the Admiral want?” a rather cool sounding voice asked behind his back.

Surprised that she hadn’t actually eavesdropped, Chakotay plastered a smile on his face and turned to face the future mother of his child. “Kathryn wanted to tell me first - she’s married to Jean-Luc Picard.” Seeing no reaction to this news on her face, he just had to add, “And she is expecting his baby as well.”

Annika considered her husband’s words and all that he was - and was not - saying. She still didn’t understand the emotional nuances, but she knew that they were there, as a river deeply running through her husband’s being. Finally, she spoke, knowing that whatever would happen in the future, there were certain bridges that her husband would now never cross. “I am pleased for her.”

“As am I,” Chakotay cautiously agreed, though in his heart he did not quite agree with that statement…


	17. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the honeymoon, the newlyweds come back to reality.

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 17:

Beginnings

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

“Clarion, I think…”

These words were softly whispered into her ear, even as she still luxuriated in the feel of her husband’s body next to hers as they were resting on the most comfortable Dionysian silk sheets covering the plushest mattress that she had ever experienced.

For finally, the newly-wed couple had actually made it to their nuptial bed for an entire night in their hotel suite. Unfortunately, they only had one more night left before they had to go back to San Francisco.

Kathryn idly reached over and stroked the ruby gemstone set into the extraordinary necklace that her husband had given her the night before. It was resting on a corner of this admiral size bed where it had been tossed during the night. She admired it again for a moment. Then she recollected what her husband had just whispered. She raised herself up a bit on her elbow, making sure that the sheet slipped enough to reveal a goodly part of her nude torso that her husband might find appealing.

“Clarion for what?”

“Our official honeymoon.”

She glanced toward the glass balcony doors that revealed a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. “Paris isn’t it?”

“Oh, this will be the honeymoon of my memories…”

The way he sighed those words convinced Kathryn that her husband would indeed have fond recollections of the past few days. For they had been rather memorable for her as well - especially the part where they had danced a good portion of the night away at the Nouveau Moulin Rouge. She had been wearing her necklace and her ruby velvet dress. Kathryn was sure that someone in the admiralty had seen them. But she did not care in the slightest about the rumors that would generate.

“And Clarion?”

“I take it that you have never been there…”

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed, is the motto of that planet. Clarion is a remarkable planet dedicated to the arts, culture, literature and of course, gambling. One night we can go to the theater. And the next night we can gamble the night away…”

Kathryn blinked. “You are talking as if we are going to be doing this rather soon.”

“We could, in a month or so, if our schedules permit it. Otherwise, we can wait until after you give birth…”

Kathryn considered the gleam in her husband’s eye. Clearly he was relishing the idea of taking her there. “Well, it would be nice to have shore leave on a planet that isn’t trying to commandeer my ship, steal my soul or execute my crewmembers…” Then she observed what else he was enjoying about their closeness…

A long time later, Kathryn rolled over onto her husband’s hirsute chest and smiled, simply gazing into his hazel eyes. “If we go to Clarion, there will be enough time for certain marital activities, won’t there be?”

He laughed out loud. “I am sure that we can schedule certain marital activities between the horseback riding and the symphony…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

In the weeks that followed, Kathryn became accustomed to her new routine. It was quite an adjustment for her for now she was a wife and a step-mother living in a new house, as well as being located at the bottom of the rear-admiral totem pole of hierarchy.

One of her first decisions was to professionally still be known as Admiral Janeway though, depending upon the circumstances, she would not object to occasionally being referred to as ‘Mrs. Picard’. Jean-Luc didn’t object in the slightest when she told him. All he said was, “There have been enough ‘Admiral Picards’.”

At first, she had hoped that Jean-Luc would choose to stay in the guest house with her, at Picard House. There was a lot to be said for the privacy that it provided. But with the coming arrival of their daughter, for they now knew that it would be a girl, common sense dictated that they should sleep closer to the nursery, and not a distance away from the main house.

It was Mildred who had explained to Kathryn that Beverly had never shared Jean-Luc’s master bedroom suite. And that almost all of the level housing the bedrooms had been redesigned and then redecorated after her disappearance. 

Of course, Jean-Luc had no objection to Kathryn changing certain décor in those rooms as well as the family use rooms throughout the house. 

Once again Picard House was undergoing renovations as a new nursery was built down the hall from the twins’ bedrooms. Fortunately, Jean-Luc’s taste in décor was in sync with Kathryn’s choices. Both of them preferred the clean, simple lines of the Arts and Crafts style that was the dominant decorating theme to the family side of the house. Kathryn even managed to persuade Jean-Luc to turn the library into a more informal ‘family room’ where they would play with the twins after dinner. She could live with the portrait of the Enterprise’s senior staff that was on one wall, that included Beverly. She was rather touched when Jean-Luc then had Q’s wedding present hung on a wall that previously had held a tapestry on the wall next to the group portrait. If he could live with portraits of his two wives on display in one room, well then, so would she. 

Even the twins seemed to recognize the need for a new routine, though at the moment, their main focus was on their upcoming birthday as well as the arrival of a new sister.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn glanced about the newly altered master bedroom suite. The colors of sage, lavender, pale aquamarine and ivory dominated the upholstery and the carpeting. The walls were a pale blue. Various antique engravings, personal art and a modern oil painting were hung on the walls. She stepped closer to the largest painting to inspect it.

“Jean-Luc, you really have given me too much already.” She glanced down at her slightly expanded waist line. “You shouldn’t have,” she finally stated, as she turned to look at her husband who was sitting on the upholstered tufted bench by the foot of their Arts & Crafts style four poster oak bed.

“Shouldn’t have, what?”

“Bought one of Pheeb’s paintings. I remember she had just finished this one of the apple orchard by my mother’s house, right before I left for the Badlands.” She glanced back over at the painting. “It was always one of my favorites…”

He stood and walked over to his wife, placing his arms gently about her waist. “For your information, mon cher, I bought that painting about seven years ago on shore leave. I saw it in a gallery in San Francisco, and it caught my eye. It reminded me of LaBarre in the spring. I didn’t even know it was by your sister until she cornered me at a cocktail party a few years later when we were docked at UP. She had been boasting that I had purchased that painting and she wanted to know if I had hung the painting on board the Enterprise.” He chuckled. “Apparently I have a preference for all the talented Janeway women.”

Considering that her mother was currently ensconced in one of the major guest suites down the hall, Kathryn could only nod her head in agreement. “About my mother…”

“Gretchen will always be welcome here. And most certainly now, when you are pregnant.” He sounded too all-knowing, akin to the way her mother had been talking lately.

“I can survive without her,” Kathryn tautly retorted.

“Of course. But why should you?” He glanced at a door by the far wall. “You haven’t looked at your closet, yet. He nodded toward a door on an adjacent wall. “That one is my closet. Our master bath connects the two rooms.”

Walking together, he opened the door to her new closet and then looked inside. About twenty dresses, tunics, gowns and sweaters as well as ten uniforms hung neatly by one wall of the room. All the other clothing rods were empty.

Puzzled, he noticed that only a portion of the cupboard space had items as well. “I thought that your mother had beamed over all of your clothing from your apartment.”

“She did.” Kathryn stepped toward the center of the room, and glanced about. “It’s all here.”

He shook his head in amazement. For Kathryn’s entire wardrobe would have been just enough clothing for Beverly to take along for a three-day holiday weekend.

Kathryn walked over to one of her uniforms and touched it. “Of course, shortly I will have to be adding more maternity outfits.”

Jean-Luc chuckled. “I have yet to meet a pregnant Starfleet officer who has anything complimentary to say about the maternity uniforms.”

“Tell me about it. After Brawny had her daughter, she’s been giving me all sorts of tips. And she’ll be a good source of baby clothes when the time comes, since her little G’wen will be a few months older than our daughter.”

“Our daughter will not be wearing used clothing!” he quickly stated, somewhat affronted by the notion.

“Of course she will.”

Jean-Luc shook his head in disbelief at his adjutant’s oversight. “Something tells me that Mildred forgot to show you the ‘baby’ storage room. Brawny as well as Cherry S’Rock have already helped themselves from it.” Grasping her hand, he pulled her out of the suite, toward a doorway at the far end of the family hallway. “We have no need for a baby shower - unless you want one, that is.”

They stepped into a room that filled from the floor to the ceiling with boxes and armoires loaded with stuff. “What is all this?” for Kathryn couldn’t imagine that most of it was really necessary for the raising of a baby.

“The stuff that was never used when the twins were born.” He opened up an armoire door to reveal shelves filled with red and blue Starfleet admiral baby outfits. “These are the newborn onesies.” 

“There’s enough here to clothe a squadron of new-born baby admirals.”

“That has been said before…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

 

The EMH eyed his patient on the examining bed as checked his padd one more time.

“All things considered, you are in good health, Admiral Janeway.”

Kathryn nodded waiting for the doctor to begin his usual rant.

Doctor Joe did not disappoint.

“You have cut back considerably on the caffeine. You are still underweight. So, eat! Ludvig now has all of my approved dietary suggestions.” He hesitated for a moment and then rapidly spoke, adding, “And starting tomorrow you are limited to four hours of work a day, in your office at Starfleet Command.”

The doctor then stepped back, for he had a pretty good idea as to how well that would go over with his former captain. And how she would react.

“Ha. Hah.” She surprised him. “Did Jean-Luc bribe you to say that to me?”

“I am afraid that it is not a joke, Admiral Janeway. As primary physician, I am officially placing you on light duty. And for no more than twenty hours a week at work.”

“For how long?”

He eyed this difficult patient, considered the fact that her promotion had not improved her general attitude toward doctors, and took another step back away from her.

“Four weeks.”

She mightily sighed. “I suppose I can live with that.”

He took another step back before he informed his patient, “And then you go on maternity leave, Admiral Janeway.” He didn’t like the way her eyes were suddenly focusing on his.

“What did you say?” She clearly enunciated the words in her most professional tone of voice. Now the EMH was getting nervous.

“Admiral… Kathryn…” His use of her first name did surprise her, so she finally focused her eyes upon his face.

Since she hadn’t hit him with her ‘death glare’ as of yet, the doctor continued. “Kathryn…”

“Doctor, there are many women who are much older than me, who have given birth to healthy babies!”

He nodded. “True. But they are not you.”

“Meaning?” Her voice dropped an octave.

“You spent seven years in the Delta Quadrant abusing your body! And if you don’t want your baby to pay the price for that maltreatment, you are going to have to follow to the letter everything that I and your other doctors tell you.”

“Doctor…”

He took a step closer to his patient. “You were barely healthy when you got pregnant, Admiral. Your body was already over-stressed. And being pregnant for the first time at your age, is going to be an even more tremendously stressful situation for your body. A body, by the way, that has already been strained to the breaking point because of the Delta Quadrant.”

She lowered her eyes as she recalled all the duty shifts in a row with no break between them, the countless cups of coffee that substituted for meals and energy, the relentless stress, and all the injuries and tortures… She knew that the doctor was right.

“What do I do?”

“Rest. Low impact exercise. Eat right. Swim. Sleep.” He handed her a padd. “This is your new regimen, Admiral.”

She sighed as she read over the padd. “Easier said than done…”

=/\= =/\= =/\=

When she transported back to Picard House, she was not that surprised that Jean-Luc was waiting for her holding the doctor’s new regimen for her on the padd. All he said was, “I will do whatever needs to be done to help you, Kathryn.”

“As long as there is no hovering,” she teased, as she removed her duty jacket and then plopped herself down on their bedroom’s chaise lounge. It was a comfortable lounge with some sort of feather padding upholstered in a sage green pattern. She was surprised at how exhausted she felt all of a sudden. Her eyes started to close, as she felt her husband remove her boots, and place a coverlet over her legs.

“Rest for a while, my dear. I will wake you before dinner.”

She almost nodded in reply before she fell asleep.

Putting away her jacket, Jean-Luc wandered over to the small desk near the balcony door, that both of them now used as their unofficial office communications center. For though a formal home office had been prepared for Kathryn as soon as they had come back from Paris, right across the hall from Jean-Luc’s home office on a lower level, Jean-Luc had noticed that Kathryn did not use that desk as much as she did this one. He glanced about and decided that there was enough space to accommodate some storage if Kathryn wished it, for he had a suspicion that Kathryn would prefer to work closer to the baby, when the time came.

He did not doubt that Kathryn would insist on working from home when she could not be at Starfleet Command, thanks to the EMH. He would have to check with that doctor as well as Dr. Norah Bolt, who was the family doctor, as to how much work Kathryn could do at home.

He considered Kathryn’s nature and how to solve future problems with the lady’s work ethic in light of her pregnancy. Since Kathryn was technically an instructor at the Academy now, he began to have a glimmer of an idea as to how to keep her occupied without overworking her. Or stressing out his nerves, her adjutants or the cadet population in general.

Jean-Luc went in search of Mildred to run his thoughts past his adjutant.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred read the padd and then eyed her boss. “Let me guess. Doc Joe believes that Admiral Janeway will comply with about fifty percent of his regimen.”

Jean-Luc settled himself more comfortably on the padded chair that Mildred had ‘borrowed’ from somewhere in Picard House, and nodded. “I believe so. I have yet to discuss this with him though I will by the end of the day.” He also duly noted that Mildred had yet to refer to his bride by her first name. And this bothered him.

“Mildred, are you and Kathryn getting along?”

He didn’t have to say anything more, for there was a look in Mildred’s eye that caught his attention.

“We are getting to know each other, Jean-Luc. Slowly.”

He wasn’t going to settle for that. “Meaning?”

“She’s not Beverly.”

He stiffened for an instant before asking again, “Meaning?”

“Jean-Luc. I knew Beverly for years before she became your wife. It was easy for the two of us to get along. We both knew that our true mission in life was to bedevil you whenever possible.”

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. He did not doubt the veracity of that statement.

“Before you married Kathryn Janeway, I’d only met the lady a few times.” Mildred raised an eyebrow. “She’s heard about me from a variety of folks. And I think that she doesn’t quite know what to make of me and all the more nefarious rumors. Yet.” Mildred opened up one of her file drawers and pulled out a bottle of her favorite bourbon. “I, on the other hand, have read her official captain’s logs…”

“Etcetera,” Jean-Luc just had to add since he knew that Mildred could have easily accessed the classified Voyager logs without any difficulty.

She ignored his snarkiness as she poured out two short shots of bourbon into two Waterford lowballs. “And I, as of yet, don’t quite know what to make of the lady.” She shoved Jean-Luc’s glass toward him before she took a sip of her own. “On the plus side Guinan, Anna and Billy Bob really like her.” She took another sip of her drink. 

“And?”

“The people that she assigned from Voyager to her staff are loyal to her to a fault.”

Jean-Luc drank his bourbon. “In other words, they won’t gossip with you?”

“They are very loyal to her,” Mildred grumbled. She didn’t add that they’d been a bit more forthcoming about Seven of Nine and Chakotay’s relationship.

“That’s an admirable trait, isn’t it, Mildred?”

“Not when I am trying to convince Admiral Janeway that I am the source of information for just about everything, and keeping everyone safe, when it comes to both Starfleet and this family…” Mildred finished off her drink. “I have to absolutely know that Kathryn Janeway trusts me completely. Implicitly.”

She didn’t have to say anything more for Jean-Luc did understand. “I think that I will start telling my wife a bit more about our convoluted relationship.”

“And then there is Gretchen,” Mildred just had to add.

“The widow of an admiral. She is bound to have heard about you from her husband…”

“Problem is, most of what was true about me back then, no longer applies…”

“Then I’d make friends with Gretchen Janeway, first.” Jean-Luc suggested as he finished off his bourbon. Suddenly, he smiled

Mildred did not care for that particular smile. 

“By the way, may I recommend that Kathryn help with the review of the new crop of Academy applicants?”


	18. Furthering Things Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various ladies come to a meeting of the minds

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 18:

Furthering Things Along

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred wasn’t that surprised to find Gretchen Janeway playing with her new grandchildren in the garden. Mildred approached them, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, non-breakable glasses and a plate of butter cookies.

“Thought that you might like a snack,” she cheerily announced as she placed the tray on a carved granite table. The twins quickly pulled up a few lawn chairs to surround their somewhat unexpected treat, for their Papa and Ryllis usually kept them on a specific schedule for just about everything, including snacks.

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Krebs,” Gretchen cheerfully stated, as she was quite willing to take this lady at face value, for the moment.

A few minutes later, the twins started fidgeting. Neither lady was surprised by this. It was too glorious an afternoon to just sit around with old folk and do nothing. It was Gretchen who suggested that they could go play in the maze.

“That will keep them busy for a while,” Mildred observed as the twins scampered off. And then she poured more lemonade for both Gretchen as well as herself.

“They need a puppy,” Gretchen announced.

“I agree.”

“So you won’t have any objections if that’s my birthday present to them?”

“Why ask me?’ Mildred sipped the tart sweet liquid. “It’s Jean-Luc you have to convince.” She put down her glass. “And while you’re at it, make it two puppies.”

Gretchen didn’t quite know what to make of this personal adjutant’s smile at that pronouncement.

“I get the feeling that you run Jean-Luc, Picard House, and the Academy,” Gretchen tartly observed. 

“Oh?”

“Years ago, I remember my late husband Edward, commenting something about your ability to commandeer whatever it was that you did.”

Mildred well-remembered Edward Janeway. But her voice was cool as she asked, “Oh?”

Gretchen wasn’t fooled by the lady’s calm tone of voice. “Yes, Edward might have mentioned that you had a somewhat Machiavellian nature, once or thrice, to me.”

“Well, I mustn’t have been very good at it considering what I am doing now,” Mildred wryly observed.

“I think that you are exactly where you wish to be,” Gretchen coolly countered. “I have yet to discern why.”

Mildred laughed, nodding her head in agreement. “The greater good is my general rationale for doing. If your daughter is anything at all like you, Mrs. Ja…”

Gretchen assessed her words and then interrupted the lady. “My name is Gretchen - Mildred.” The first gauntlet was thrown.

“Gretchen.” Mildred accepted the challenge.

“My daughter is far more like her father…”

“Considering what I’ve heard about you over the years from quite a number of sources - and the fact that Winnie always shudders when he hears your name - I hope that she is more like you.” Mildred glanced away for a moment, automatically checking the twins playing hide-and-seek in the garden. “Jean-Luc desperately needs someone who is at least equal to him.”

Gretchen bristled. “What if my daughter is better?”

“When his male ego gets over that fact, he will really come to appreciate his wife.”

Gretchen studied Mildred for a moment as she considered the woman’s words and attitude. “You really want my Kathryn and your Jean-Luc to make a go of it, don’t you?”

“I will do everything that I can to help them along.” Mildred finished off her lemonade. “Beverly was a strong woman, who, quite frankly, was better at seizing life and all that it has to offer, than Jean-Luc did most of the time.”

Gretchen nodded. “So Beverly Crusher gave him something to strive for…”

“Exactly.”

“And Jean-Luc needs that.” Gretchen finished off her drink as well. “Something tells me that Kathryn’s marriage could become… complicated.”

“That’s why we’re here, Gretchen. To guide them, and to keep things uncomplicated, when it becomes necessary to intervene.”

Gretchen nodded as if in agreement, before she stood and called out, “Anna. Warp Speed. Time to go to Ryllis. You have yet to do your mathematics studies today.”

Mildred grinned at the use of that long forbidden nickname. For only Winston Holt Wiley, had ever called Jean-Luc’s son that nickname in front of his father. ‘Billy Bob’ was bad enough, in Jean-Luc’s eyes. But ‘Warp Speed’ was anathema to the Commandant of the Academy. Though for some odd reason, no one tried to change little Lwaxana’s nickname of ‘Anna’.

“I’ve got a bottle of really good bourbon in my office, Gretchen. Along with my special chocolate chip cookies… If you’d care to?”

“I do, indeed. Thanks for the invite. Do you add nuts to your cookies?”

Mildred shook her head. “To chocolate chip? Never.”

Gretchen smiled. She was going to get along just fine with this dark-shadows corridor legend.

“How do you feel about caramel chocolate brownies?” Gretchen asked as she decided that it was time that she did a little baking herself…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn Janeway did not like the idea of being restricted especially when the order came from her too-fussy EMH. But for her baby’s sake, she was willing to put up with just about anything, except having people hover around her. And somehow, a man she did not know was hovering. Granted, it was discretely and from the sidelines where he was keeping an eye on her. She did not know for what specific purpose for if Jean-Luc had assigned the man to her security, surely her husband would have told her...

She stepped away from her office window after she had confirmed that the same man was sitting on the same bench for the fourth day in a row, diligently working on a padd. Or so it seemed.

After seven years in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn instinctively was on alert whenever she awakened in the morning until the moment she closed her eyes at night. Even in the heart of Starfleet, surrounded by the best of Starfleet’s defenses, she was always wary. Such a state was too ingrained into her habits by now to ever change. And this man’s presence had set her on edge. 

What didn’t help matters any was that the first time that she had thought that she had noticed this tall, somewhat burly man was when he had been talking to Mildred Krebs on the dyad at the Academy. The fact that he might know Mrs. Krebs was the chief reason she hadn’t called on Starfleet Security to check him out. 

However, that didn’t stop her from privately contacting Lieutenant Ayala on the sub-rosa network that B’Elanna had discretely set up long before they’d landed on Earth. This network’s ostensible purpose was to keep the Voyager family in contact with each other; and to help keep all of the Voyagers safe.

About fifteen minutes later, Mike Ayala was escorted into Admiral Janeway’s office.

“Admiral, funny you should call me,” was Ayala’s way of greeting his former captain.

“Lieutenant, it is good to see you again. I only wanted you to check something for me. You didn’t have to come all the way over here from Chicago.”

“You didn’t request me, then?”

Shaking her head slightly in confusion, Admiral Janeway motioned toward the chair by her desk. “For what, Lieutenant?”

“Uh…,”

“If you know anything, I would appreciate the information, Lieutenant. An unknown man is following me, and I want to know why.” She brought up a holographic image of her tracker from her padd.

Ayala observed the man and then nodded before speaking. “Something is going on, Admiral. I was contacted a few hours ago and told to come to the Academy to be part of your new, expanded security detail. I also was supposed to recommend at least eight Voyagers to join your detail.”

“That’s about all of your Voyager security staff. Who made the request?”

“I was told to report to a Lieutenant Malcolm Reynolds, Admiral. I am to receive more intelligence from him.”

Kathryn considered this information. She relaxed a little before asking, “Does the name Mildred Krebs mean anything to you, Mike?”

“I was under the impression that she’s Lieutenant Reynolds’ boss, Admiral.” He cleared his throat, before adding, “By the way, congratulations Admiral.” He cast a glance toward her waistline.

“Let me guess, you heard I was pregnant from Tom.”

“Actually, it was B’Elanna who squealed.” The dark-haired man laughed. “About three weeks ago I got the call. I was waiting for an official confirmation before I said anything.”

“Who gave the official confirmation?”

“Well, Admiral, it was politely suggested that I do not ‘hover’ when I am on duty. Doctor Joe suggested it.”

Kathryn chuckled. “That means it was either Jean-Luc or my mother who had a talk with the EMH. If it had been Mildred Krebs, she would have just ordered it.” She took a sip of her ginger spice tea since real coffee was something she chose not to imbibe given her condition. “You did say ‘expanded’ security detail?”

“Yes, Admiral. I was told to round up everyone you and I would trust absolutely.”

Kathryn puzzled over those words. Clearly something was going on, and she was not in the loop.

“I will find out what is going on and why, Lieutenant Ayala.” She stood. “In the meantime, I think that you will find that Lieutenant Reynolds is a very good security officer. Maybe he can bring you up to speed.” She stood and walked around her desk and then patted the man on his shoulder. All of the Voyagers were very familiar with this Janeway trademark action. “If Lieutenant Reynolds does tell you, let me know too.”

Mike Ayala did not know what to make of that statement.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

An hour later, Admiral Janeway walked along the garden pathway that would take her on a bit of a roundabout way to the Academy administration building. She wasn’t that surprised to notice that the man from the bench was following her at a distance.

After going through two of the smaller Hosta gardens, she ducked behind a large clump of trees, and waited.

Less than a minute later, the man who was trailing her found himself surrounded by Ayala and his security. 

Kathryn smiled to herself as she watched Lieutenant Ayala escort the man away. She also noted that two of her Voyager security personnel stayed behind to escort her.

Something was definitely going on…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred Krebs was not that surprised when her adjutant announced that Admiral Janeway was requesting a few minutes of her time. The report of Lieutenant Ayala questioning her man had already crossed her padd. Glancing about her inner office at the Academy, she duly noted that a fresh plate of cookies was placed on the sideboard, right next to an unopened bottle of JAMESONS. She smiled to herself. Everything was ready.

“Please escort the admiral in.”

A moment later a decidedly cool in appearance admiral was ushered into the somewhat small office. For Mildred Krebs had no need for ostentation in the place where she actually worked. If grandiose surroundings were necessary, well then, she had another office for such showmanship. But her judgment of Admiral Janeway’s character was such that the lady had no expectation of such things in order to get the job done.

“Mrs. Krebs,” Admiral Janeway calmly said.

“You want to know what the hell is going on?” Mildred motioned for the lady to take the most comfortable chair in her office.

“I could say that.” Silently amused that this woman was clearly trying to take charge of their conversation, Kathryn nodded as she took her seat.

“Ordinarily, Jean-Luc should have been the one to tell you…”

Kathryn interrupted the lady. “But he doesn’t know yet, does he?”

Mildred slowly sat back down, studying the woman seated before her. “Jean-Luc has enough on his plate. I didn’t wish to worry him unnecessarily. But now, he will have to be told.”

Kathryn Janeway became all business in attitude. “It’s that bad?”

“Your Ensign Manion was murdered.”

An abrupt frisson of fear coursed through Kathryn’s veins though she didn’t show it. “I take it that her death was not ruled an accident?”

“Even if the Starfleet Medical Examiner had ruled it as accidental, my people did not. But that doctor found enough trace elements of certain psychotropic drugs in Ensign Manion’s system to decide that the poor ensign’s death could not be accidental. Whoever did this was not really concerned about covering their tracks.”

“What is going on? Who would have done this?”

“That’s the scary part, Admiral Janeway. So far, I don’t have an inkling of an answer. Or even any likely suspect. And considering my resources, now is the time to worry. And be careful. Very careful.” Mildred glanced down at a padd, noted what was there, and then looked back at her guest. “Whoever did this, really didn’t care if we discovered the murder or not. And that kind of arrogance can become deadly.”

Kathryn mentally sighed. It had been so long since life had been ‘simple’ for her.

“Any theories?”

“Commander Worf suspects an old enemy from Jean-Luc’s past. A DaiMon Bok.”

She slightly nodded. “So it is Jean-Luc and not my history?”

“Jean-Luc’s enemies are the most likely probability. But you have enough notoriety to have engendered possible enemies of your own. I am not ruling anything out at the moment.”

Kathryn Janeway leaned back and silently studied the woman in the soft lavender suit, wearing pearl stud earrings. She looked like a typical upper-echelon personal assistant at Starfleet Command. Yet, the way she spoke indicated something else – someone much more experiences. And powerful. And considering the few comments that her mother had made about the lady, they were also factored in to Kathryn’s assessment.

“Why are you here?”

Mildred did not deliberately misunderstand the question. “I found that being retired did not suit me at all. And then, along came Jean-Luc. For Guinan had recommended that I take an interest in the man. So, I did. And I liked what I discerned about him.” Mildred chuckled, almost as if to herself before continuing. “You should have seen Winnie’s face when I informed him that I was going to become Jean-Luc Picard’s personal assistant.”

Kathryn could well imagine that man’s expression. “From what little I know about you, becoming a P.A. would seem to be a position well below your skill set.”

Mildred laughed out loud. “I know. I naively thought that if I could successfully direct the machinations of Federation planets, just how difficult could one mere captain be?” She stood and motioned toward her sideboard. “That was before I knew about Q of course. Then came the Borg. And everything else that the universe has thrown against the poor man.”

Mildred picked up a crystal glass.

Kathryn nodded. “Cookies, yes. Whiskey, unfortunately no.”

“I already checked with your EMH. A dram won’t hurt you.” Mildred then opened that bottle.

Accepting a lowball filled with barely an ounce of liquid, Kathryn returned to her more important business.

“So, meddling in Jean-Luc’s life was just an amusement for you?”

“Not exactly. I quickly figured out what Winnie had seen in the man when Jean-Luc had been a cadet.” Mildred poured some whiskey for herself. “I knew that Jean-Luc was worth protecting. And saving.” She did not have to explain why Jean-Luc had needed such care. “I couldn’t prevent what happened to Beverly. I knew that there was something going on, but I had not suspected that it would be anything serious. Or deadly.”

Kathryn took her time before she commented, “Then Dr. Crusher had certain ‘incidents’ too?”

“Nothing worrisome at the time. They seemed to be nothing more than annoying, anonymous practical jokes. And to this day, I cannot prove otherwise. But my gut is telling me…”

Kathryn respected gut instincts. Instincts were part of the reason as to why she had survived the Delta Quadrant. “Mildred, you think what happened to me – and to Ensign Manion – was somehow connected to Beverly Picard’s disappearance?”

“I now have to consider that possibility - Kathryn.”

“So this is why you have added the extra security to my detail?”

“Yes.” Mildred returned to her chair. “I know that you’ve actually known Jean-Luc longer than I have. But I think that I have a pretty good measure of the man.” She finally tasted her Irish whiskey. “I know Jean-Luc. The moment he hears that you might be in danger because of your relationship to him, he is going to try to push you away in order to keep you safe.”

Kathryn nodded. “So that means that we both have to convince him that to do so, would endanger me more than if I stay here with him?”

“You got it. In many ways, Jean-Luc is like you, Kathryn. You both assume that you’re responsible for everything.”

Ordinarily Admiral Janeway would have bristled over this assessment, but she had heard it this accusation too many times before from her former First Officer. “I won’t deny that I have felt that way – especially when I stranded my crew in the Delta Quadrant.”

She then ate a cookie as she considered all that Mildred had revealed.

“Are the children in danger?”

“I don’t think so. Nothing, so far, has been directed toward the twins or toward Wesley. Not that we haven’t upped their security, too. That’s one of the reasons Winnie sent Wesley to assist Lwaxana on board the Enterprise.”

Kathryn tightly smiled as she considered this woman’s actions. “You wanted me to notice your security, didn’t you?”

Mildred knew by now that this woman was no fool. “Let’s just say that you noticed what I wanted you to notice.”

“So that you could do an end-run around Jean-Luc so that you could have a legitimate reason to tell me.”

“Winnie didn’t want to worry either you or Jean-Luc.” Mildred smiled. “Sometimes, when it comes to this kind of security issue, Winnie doesn’t quite get it.” Mildred picked up a cookie. “You had a right to know.”

“And so you told me.” 

Kathryn understood why Mildred Krebs had done this. And she did appreciate this woman’s consideration. Though one would not observe it for nothing about Kathryn Janeway’s appearance or attitude changed, Kathryn Janeway finally began to relax in the presence of this lady.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

When Kathryn walked into the library at her new home, she only had to take one glace at her husband to know that he’d been told about the change in their security status.

Without saying a word, Kathryn simply walked up to Jean-Luc and hugged him tightly.

He simply held her as he buried his face in her hair, barely paying attention to the slight scent of roses that he smelled.

He lifted his head from her shoulder. “I am so sorry…”

“Hush, Jean-Luc. It is not your fault. And the odds are at least fifty percent that it is someone from my past who is out to hurt us…”

“In other words, you mean that neither one of us should be apologizing to the other.”

“What we really should be doing is plotting how to get the bastard…”

Jean-Luc chuckled. He had almost forgotten just how ruthless Kathryn Janeway could be.

“Or bastards…”


	19. Sometimes, One Has Difficulty in Learning Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain truths are being revealed...

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 19:

Sometimes, One Has Difficulty in Learning Things

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It wasn’t obvious. In fact, it was so subtle, that Wesley Crusher thought that he might be imagining it – most of the time. And it was happening only when he was alone with one or more of the senior Enterprise officers. It was only with them that he was detecting something. Yet he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Still, there was something odd about the way they sometimes looked at him.

But the ambassadress was leaving him little time for introspection with her sudden urgent demands to be brought up to snuff on all Ferengi protocols.

Wesley found his first few days on board the Enterprise to be somewhat perplexing. Busy, but confusing. This Enterprise, though it would always in many ways, symbolize ‘home’ to him, was no longer his real home at all. The ship had changed. 

And so, had he.

He didn’t realize all of the changes at first, of course. And then, by the time he really began to notice the side glances that seemed to hold something other than just a pleasant greeting, it seemed as if everyone was just glad that he was back on board; that everything was normal. Which he intuited, it wasn’t…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“It’s time to tell him,” Lwaxana pronounced to her daughter and son-in-law. She finished off her first after-dinner brandy, as she pushed aside the creeping tilsit from her bosom. The creature/plant now began entangling itself with the lady’s besequinned feather collar.

“I thought that we were going to wait until we reached DS 9,” Will countered even as he continued to drink his after-dinner coffee which Mr. Homm had generously spiked with Betazoid brandy. Since he wasn’t due on duty for two more shifts, the captain felt that he deserved this minor indulgence.

“Wesley is growing suspicious,” Lwaxana announced more imperiously than before as she swatted the plant away from her earring. 

Miraculously, she then waved at Mr. Homm to end the traditional dinner gonging.

Captain Riker was most appreciative of the pleasant sound of gong-less silence.

Deanna carefully placed her half-empty bone china cup of ginger tea back on its saucer. Her mother always travelled with her own dining service, and woe be it to anyone who managed to chip it. Deanna had learned this rule when she was a child and she had never ignored it since. 

Deanna glanced about her mother’s ambassadorial suite on board the Enterprise. This ship was so used to her mother’s presence, that it had taken Mr. Homm only a few hours to bring the suite up to a level of luxuriousness of which Lwaxana Troi-Wiley would approve. There were hand-made tapestries from Bajor, silk rugs woven on Berengaria, and enough French down-filled pillows scattered over every empty surface, to remind Will Riker of certain Parisian houses of ill-repute of which the captain of the Enterprise was not normally a habitué, though of course as an upper-echelon Starfleet officer, he was privy to their existence. 

The color palette was purple of course. For some reason, Lwaxana seemed to think that this color made her look good. Deanna had another opinion of course, but she wisely did not think it.

“I will tell Wes tomorrow,” Lwaxana stated. “We should give him enough time to… adjust, before we reach the starbase.”

Knowing better than to argue with Lwaxana over something like this, Riker finished off his coffee, shoved back his too-plush, gilded dining chair and stood; then he extended his hand toward his bride. Deanna took it. “I’ll arrange a senior staff meeting for the morning – after you talk to Wes.”

Sensing that her son-in-law would rather be alone with his wife rather than arguing with his mother-in-law, Lwaxana beamed her approval toward Will and Deanna.

“Yes, it is time for Deanna,” she arched an eyebrow before adding, “to rest.”

Will only politely said, “Good night, Lwaxana,” before he escorted his wife out of the suite. And then he kissed her soundly once they entered the privacy of the turbolift.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

At first, Wesley Crusher couldn’t quite comprehend what he was viewing.

When Lwaxana had invited him to her suite for breakfast, Wesley had assumed that it was to discuss details of their mission. Instead, of breakfast waiting for them when he entered the suite, she handed Wesley an almost-hot cup of brandy with a few drops of coffee added for flavor. Then she commanded him to sit. And drink.

A moment later he was watching a short vid that filled him with a fragile thread of hope. 

And horror. 

It was on the second viewing that the shocking ramifications of the vid began to really be comprehended.

“What?” he finally croaked, as he looked at Lwaxana. “How?”

“From a dead Ferengi named ‘Ev’ who was some sort of cousin of Quark on DS 9.”

Wesley shook his head in disbelief. It took a while before he mustered up enough air in his lungs to speak. “So, that is why we’re really going to DS 9.”

“Yes.” 

“To research this vid.”

Mr. Homm poured Lwaxana another cup of coffee brandy. She drank that before she continued.

“Will wants to analyze the original vid, if possible. This copy revealed very little, though I am sure that Mr. Data will give you all of the particulars. If necessary, once we analyze Quark’s version, we go on to Ferenginar…”

Wesley shook his head still overwhelmed by what she was saying and what he had just viewed. “Everyone knows,” he waved his hand toward the frozen holographic vid of the woman who looked like his mother, “about this?”

“Only the senior staff, your mother’s closest friends…”

Wes finished the list for her. “And of course, Admiral Winston Holt Wiley.”

“When Will first saw the vid, he went to my husband immediately for permission to investigate.”

“Why didn’t Jean-Luc?” Wesley abruptly stopped speaking that thought. He considered things before adding, “No one has told Jean-Luc, have they?”

Lwaxana walked over to Wesley, and pulled him into enveloping Betazoid version of a bear hug – whether he wanted one or not. She then answered his question. “No. We decided to spare Jean-Luc any unnecessary pain if this doesn’t come to a blessed fruition…”

He abruptly stood and pointed at the holographic image. “Is that woman my mother?”

Lwaxana kissed his cheek. “Dear Mr. Data thinks that there is now a sixty-two percent chance that it is.” She studied Wes for a moment before she asked, “What do you think, Wesley? Is she your mother?”

“I don’t know… Maybe…”

But in his heart, he knew that the women in the vid was his mother. 

It had to be.

And his heart cried at the thought of what she must have endured…

And wondered if she were still alive…

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred harrumphed. She re-inspected the tiny office in the fourth sub-basement of the Robert Bloch Academic offices at the Academy, and harrumphed again. She sniffed the air detecting a slight hint of mildew. She was not pleased.

A rather surprised Captain Chakotay lifted his head up from the syllabus that he was studying at this noise, and warily greeted his visitor who was standing in the old-fashioned doorway to his windowless office – if you could call a closet at ‘office’. And it had an actual door with a lock to boot.

He’d learned quite a bit about the lady once he’d re-entered academe’s hallowed halls, from his fellow professors. So, he was wary of her presence.

“Mrs. Krebs. Is there something I can do for you?”

She inspected this new professor at the Academy as if he were a first-year cadet, and then deciding that he wasn’t wanting, she gave a stiff, slight nod. “Yes, Captain. Come to tea. Sixteen hundred hours. That should be after your last class. My office in the admin building.” With that she turned and swiftly departed.

Chakotay thought that he heard her final harrumph echo down the long, narrow somewhat dank hallway that had no windows. He could only wonder why he was being summoned.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Only Deanna had a sympathetic, understanding expression on her face when Wesley entered the Senior Officer’s lounge. Everyone other officer from Commander LaForge to Reg Barclay in the room looked ‘professional’. Around the long table, where all of the senior ship Starfleet officers that Wesley had always considered to be his friends, in spite of the well-deserved disapprobation that his Nova Squadron antics had brought down upon his head, Wesley sensed their concern, nervousness and support.

Captain Riker nodded toward the empty chair that was next to his chair, flanked by his First Officer to his left.

“I am sorry, Wesley,” Commander Data quietly stated. He did not really have to explain for what. “Admiral Wiley decided that you should not be informed until the Enterprise was well out of Sector One.”

“I understand.” Though he really didn’t…

Since Captain Riker said nothing, Wesley continued. “I recognize that you think that this is a vid of my mother.”

“The odds have slightly increased that the woman is Admiral Beverly Crusher, Commander.” Will Riker finally spoke.

Wesley looked at the man whom he had always wished had been his big brother. “Any idea as to where, Captain?” His voice sounded flat; lacking any trace of emotion.

“None whatsoever,” Riker replied before he nodded toward his Number One.

Data continued, explaining about the Romulans in the background, the various, unknown and unidentified aliens, and about the technical problems with the vid.

“We think that the vid was made about six months after the disappearance of the K’Tosh.” Worf finally spoke.

Wesley studied everyone about the table. “What do all of you think?”

Speaking softly, Deanna answered him. “The same as you, Wes. It is Beverly.”

“We will find her,” Lwaxana pronounced with dramatic flair finally making her presence known. “Even if I have to oomax the earlobes of every Magus or DaiMon on Ferenginar!”

“Or cut them off,” Worf darkly added under his breath, wishing to offer another, more practical option.

Captain Riker said nothing about his Second Officer’s bloodthirstiness. In fact, he silently approved of it.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It became obvious the moment that he stepped foot upon a very plush, hand-woven carpet, that was in Mildred Kreb’s outer office, that he was expected. A young, short, cadet office intern, gave him a nervous smile, before she led the famous Maquis Captain into Mrs. Kreb’s inner sanctum.

“The lady is waiting for you, Sir,” she hesitantly said, as the full impact of the captain’s dimples when he smiled hit her. Her fellow cadets on campus had not lied about the attractiveness of this captain’s smile. It also explained why the registration for the courses that he was teaching had filled up so quickly, mainly with female cadets.

Captain Chakotay didn’t respond, for he was too busy taking in the sights of an office suite that did not match his expectations for rooms in the upper echelons of the Academy. They were well decorated, but there was nothing ostentatious about them. The dominant colors were Starfleet blue and grey. Though the natural birch wood bookshelves which looked hand-made, were a bit of a surprise, as was the matching assembly of the rest of the wood office furniture. And the tall barrister bookcases were loaded with actual books rather than all the trophies and commendations that one usually expected to see in a mucky-muck’s office. 

Mrs. Krebs motioned for the captain to join her by the birk square low table that was in front of her settee as he strode into the room. She could tell that he wasn’t intimidated by her presence or the surroundings. She silently approved of his polite, non-subservient attitude.

“Captain, I am glad that you could make it. I hope that I didn’t inconvenience you.”

Chakotay got the impression that she would have insisted that he show up whether it inconvenienced him or not even as he sat upon a comfortable down-filled cushion.

“Not at all, Mrs. Krebs.” His voice was soft, polite and filled with a tinge of curiosity.

Mildred nodded at the gangly girl still gazing at the captain in the doorway. “That will be all, Cadet Iverson.”

With a low swoosh, the door closed behind the girl as she left the office.

Captain Chakotay sniffed. He identified what he was smelling – his favorite herbal tea blend wafting with the steam from the Brown Betty pottery teapot. He could only be suspicious about why this woman had gone to the trouble to find out his drinking preferences.

“Milk or sugar?” Mildred politely asked as she lifted up the antique pottery teapot with a shiny chocolate glaze.

She could tell that he was somewhat surprised by the afternoon tea spread before him. There were quarter cut vegan sandwiches, little fruit tarts, and a silver tray loaded with chocolate chip cookies for rumor had it that this captain had a sweet tooth.

Chakotay had not been expecting this gesture. He politely responded, “Neither.”

“You only add cream and sugar to your coffee, I believe.”

Chakotay blinked. What had he done to warrant such intrusion into his life style? And why was she doing it? Still, his expression gave away none of his surprise at the level of this woman’s inquisitiveness.

“When I am in the mood for coffee, that is the way that I drink it,” he casually replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Ludvig.”

“Ludvig?”

“Kathryn and Jean-Luc have a temperamental chef named Ludvig. He is a genius when it comes to cooking – and to brewing coffee.”

Chakotay was now puzzled. “Meaning?”

“When you’re at Picard House, Ludvig likes to know the preferences of all of his guests. Giving him that information ahead of time just makes life that much more simple for me.” She picked up her tea cup and sipped. “Not to mention being the beneficiary of one of the man’s legendary crème brulees, now and then when I provide such information.”

“I see.”

Mildred chuckled. “I can see that you don’t. But you will. That’s why I asked you over here.”

Chakotay took a sip of his tea in response.

“Jean-Luc will be asking you and your wife to dinner within the next few days.”

“And you’re vetting me to see if there will be any problems?” He wasn’t going to pretend that this woman did not know about his complicated relationship with Kathryn Janeway.

“Oh, considering how Annika has been acting lately, no doubt due to her pregnancy, I am sure that there will be problems. But now that your wife is in her second trimester, maybe she will calm down a bit.” Mildred reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “I made these.”

Chakotay picked one up as well as two of the small cucumber and sprout sandwiches and placed all of them on his tea plate. “You can find time to bake?”

“Just like you can find time to do your sand paintings.”

Chakotay began to really worry about why this woman had investigated him so well.

As if knowing what he was wondering, Mildred casually announced, “We have maintained quite a file on you, Captain, over the decades.”

“We?”

“Section 31.” She enigmatically smiled. “That is if Section 31 actually still exists.”

From her very expression, Chakotay wisely deduced that he shouldn’t ask any more questions about that piece of information.

But he knew its revelation meant something important. “What’s going on?”

She nodded, as if she were approving of his words. “You might have noticed that there are a lot of Voyagers now assigned to Admiral Janeway’s staff.”

“Yes, Mike Ayala mentioned he was working for Kathryn now.”

“Kathryn trusts them. I trust them.” She nibbled on a cookie before continuing. “Regardless of what happened between you, Kathryn still considers you to be her best friend – next to her husband, of course.”

Chakotay could only nod as he listened. 

“One of Admiral Janeway’s office staff – an Ensign Manion, was murdered ten days ago.”

“What?” Chakotay couldn’t hide his shock over this bit of information.

“Lieutenant Ayala will give you the details. You may share the particulars with Annika as well, since, I have come to the conclusion that you Voyagers are loyal to Kathryn Janeway and always will be.”

“We spent seven years forming a family, Mrs. Krebs. And in many ways, we are closer to each other than we are to our own families.”

“That is why I am approving the sharing of all of the information with your former crew, Captain Chakotay. There are plots within plots going on here, and I am afraid that the moment Kathryn Janeway reunited with Jean-Luc Picard, she became embroiled with them.”

Chakotay chose his words carefully. “The danger is from Admiral Picard’s enemies?”

“Or, it could be just someone who hates the Voyagers.”

Chakotay intuited the dilemma. “You don’t know.”

“And that is why I am circling the wagons around Kathryn, Jean-Luc and the kids.” She finished off her tea. “I know the danger is real. I just don’t know from where it will come.”

Thirty minutes later, Chakotay was in possession of all the padds and information that he needed to know to quietly inform the rest of his former crew.

Mildred finished off the last of her tea before she stood and stretched. “Would you care for something a bit stronger – say, Aldebaran whiskey, Chakotay?”

The captain noticed that she had dropped the use of his rank. 

“Or would you prefer some apple brandy?”

That was something he had never heard about before.

“Of course, Mrs. Krebs, you know that I like cider.”

“Kathryn might have mentioned it.” She grinned. “And you can call me ‘Mildred’, now. I insist. Using my first name around the Academy, might make some of your detractors a bit nauseous. And more careful.”

“Oh?”

“There are not many people or officers, who have my permission to use my first name. Those that don’t have my permission have lived to regret their informality toward my person.”

For a fleeting moment, he caught a sense of the lady’s devious nature.

As if in explanation, she added, “You were never supposed to be assigned to the T.A.’s tiny office, Chakotay. I am assuming for now, that somebody in command, presumably who does not like the former Maquis being in Starfleet, reassigned you to that closet.” She went to a breakfront and slid open a door, pulling out a very old looking brown bottle before she then showed the man the bottle’s label. “According to Q, this Calvados comes from the Napoleonic era.” She poured a generous amount into two brandy glasses. “Not that I really believe almost anything that Q utters.”

Chakotay chuckled. “I see that you know Q very well, Mildred.”

“One of the unfortunate hazards of my job, Chakotay. Q likes Kathryn and Jean-Luc. So, I encounter that demi-devil rather too often.” She handed him the goblet, and was pleased to note that he knew how to properly warm up the brandy before sipping it.

“I had been wondering about my office space assignment.”

As if intuiting where Chakotay’s thoughts might be meandering, Mildred quickly corrected his thinking. “Jean-Luc Picard is not a petty man. He would be upset if he learned about where you were assigned.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass about. “The Academy directory now lists your office on the same floor as Kathryn’s office in the Asimov building. In fact, you are now only a few doors down from her door.”

He choked, and he hadn’t even tasted the brandy yet. He was going to be working amongst admirals?

“I’ve already had your stuff beamed over there.” She picked up another padd and handed it to the bemused man. “Your new location. And no, no one went snooping through your stuff. Everything is still in their packing containers. You might want to contact the senior officer’s requisition office at the Asimov, when it comes to decorating your new suite. I’ve already authorized your use of them. In fact, I’d done it the moment when I learned that you were coming to Earth.” She tasted her brandy before adding, “And do not let Lwaxana ‘volunteer’ to decorate your suite. That woman sure loves to decorate whatever room she lay her claw-nailed paws upon. And you don’t strike me as the ‘passionate purple Pawnee’ type of captain, Chakotay.”

Chakotay knew that he really didn’t want to know. Deciding that the best thing that he could do at the moment was to take a taste of his brandy, Chakotay found himself rather surprised. For this apple brandy was pure ambrosia. With a decided kick. He knew he was going to savor it very slowly.

After thinking for a while, he asked, “Someone dislikes me or the Maquis enough that they changed what I am presuming was your original office assignment?”

“Yes, and actually no. It was Jean-Luc who wanted you close to Kathryn. He’s the one who wanted you at the Asimov Tower. I now understand his reasoning.”

Deciding that Mildred meant those words as a compliment, Chakotay sipped his brandy again.

“I am sure that there will be one or two of the bureaucrat admirals whose noses will be out of joint. They are not the ones that we need to worry about.” Sitting back down and relaxing against the down-filled cushions, Mildred leaned closer to Chakotay. “Now, the records show that you were at the Academy when Beverly was interning at Starfleet Med. Feel like telling me about what a young Beverly Howard was like before she met her two husbands? I have only heard some rumors, and I don’t really wish to speculate…”

“Mildred, there really isn’t that much to tell.” Chakotay just knew he should not have let his guard down for a section as he mentally scrambled to figure out what to tell the lady.

“Do tell.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Passionate Purple Pawnee' really does exist. Or, at least it was the name of a drink that was served in a local dive near the campus where I went to college. We weren't exactly politically correct back than. I am sure that some cheap version of it exists somewhere though the name has probably changed more than a few times. I have always envisioned it as another version of Klingon blood wine. (BEG)
> 
> It basically is Mogan David and vodka mixed in equal parts. Simple syrup or sugar was added if necessary. Or, you can use very sweet wine mixed with the vodka. Trust me, you do not ever want to get a hangover drinking this stuff.
> 
> And yes, my tastes in wine did improve once I graduated, and could afford something more expensive that Mogan David or Riunite.


	20. Some Sort of Meeting of 2 Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc and Chakotay have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting. I had problems with my new desktop computer and had to mail it back to the manufacturer. After several months of debating, I finally received a new replacement computer, thanks to the help from my brother who is a lawyer. Unfortunately, all of my stories were on my old laptop which is Vista Basic. It took me a while to translate over to Windows 10. Anyway, I should be caught up with postings by the end of April.

DETACHED MEANT:   
Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 20:  
Some Sort of a Meeting of Two Minds

 

=/\= =/\= =/\=

“Ah, Captain Chakotay. Please, come in. Sit down.” With a polite welcoming smile, Admiral Jean-Luc Picard stood to greet his guest, extending his hand.

As Chakotay entered the inner office of the Superintendent of the Academy, he glanced about taking in the room. He was not entirely surprised to see that the office was a testimony to the tastes of the man standing before him. Everything was functional with a clean, subtle style line. In fact, the only item in the whole office area that could be described as ‘atypical’ for the decorating scheme, was a Georgian style engraved Sheffield tea service placed on a sideboard which was flanked by a plate full of cookies. Chakotay was willing to bet that those cookies were chocolate chip sans nuts.

“You sent for me, Admiral?” Chakotay respectfully shook this admiral’s hand and then sat down on a surprisingly comfortable, Starfleet blue upholstered rolled arm chair that was in front of the superintendent’s desk. Apparently, Picard followed the old captain’s belief that if you made your ‘suspect’, er, guest, comfortable, your guest would be more forthcoming and candid with answers to your questions. He glanced to the side, and was not that surprised to see a straight back metal side chair with rough ladder back slats, tucked away in a corner holding a few books. He did not doubt that the chair was as uncomfortable as it looked, though evidently it did function well as a book holder. 

Chakotay was well aware of the games that captains would play with their subordinates for he had used some of those very tricks himself over the years. Though the wiles of Kathryn in her ready room, were in a memorable class all of their own. He did not doubt that his former captain could one day write a book about her special interrogation techniques if she were so inclined. 

“Yes, Captain.” Picard sat down and picked up a padd. “First, business.” He handed the padd to the captain. “All of your classes are full, which of course, is welcome though not exactly unexpected news to the administrative officers. A number of cadets with elective choices chose to register for all of your Delta Quadrant courses. Interest in them has been rather high. So many have enrolled in fact, that some of the cadets for whom your courses are now mandatory, unwisely procrastinated registering for your classes and were left out.”

Chakotay was a bit confused about what the admiral was saying. “You want me to pick whom to bump?”

Picard chuckled. “No, of course not. Anyone and anything that elicits such a response from our cadets is not to be discouraged. Firsthand knowledge of the Delta Quadrant is quite a big lure in and of itself, after all.” Jean-Luc refrained from commenting about ‘dimples’ which was a topic of conversation that he had inadvertently overheard some of his outer office intern-cadets discussing. “I was just going to suggest changing the location where you would teach these courses. I have had to reshuffle the location assignments a bit. This padd has a list of classrooms and auditoriums with at least twenty percent more seating than the prior locations, that are now available if you wish to use them.”

Considering how tightly scheduled, plotted and located cadet courses were, he was somewhat impressed by the last-minute ‘shuffling’. Chakotay quickly perused the list. “Hawking Hall? I thought that Kathryn was going to be doing a ‘Delta Quadrant Astral Phenomena Studies’ lecture there, next semester.”

Somehow, Kathryn Janeway’s husband was not that surprised to discover that his wife’s former first officer was still keeping tabs on his former captain.

“Unfortunately, your EMH has decided that Kathryn will be going on maternity leave very soon. I am afraid that I am going to ask you to cover that course next semester, for her, by the way. You can then do your scheduled ‘First Contact with Delta Quadrant Warp Capable Alien Studies’ immediately afterward, if you wish.”

Chakotay was instantly on alert for he knew that the Superintendent of the Academy wouldn’t have asked him to his office just to discuss seating charts. And it would have taken at least several hundred hunting hordes of Hirogen to prevent Kathryn from teaching her scheduled course. Kathryn would never have willingly given up talking about her scientific heart’s desire of all the astronomical halo phenomena that she had discovered in the Delta Quadrant without major, imposing arguments having been dragged out to prevent her from the action.

“Is Kathryn all right?”

Jean-Luc eyed the troubled man seated across from him before he decided to how to answer his question. The man’s concern seemed genuine. “Whether she is willing to admit it or not, Kathryn’s health is such that she is not capable of the rigors that teaching such a course would require. The physical toll of what the Delta Quadrant and the Borg did to her body could further endanger her pregnancy if she doesn’t religiously follow all of her physicians’ instructions…”

“And we all know how Kathryn feels about following religious or medical instructions…,” Chakotay quietly uttered.

Jean-Luc only eyed the man as he ignored this interruption, though he did silently acknowledge the truth of the man’s words. “Perhaps Doctor Joe is erring on the side of caution, but given Kathryn’s determined nature…”

“You were forced to bring in the ‘big guns’.” Chakotay smiled as he sensed more than saw this man’s discomfort over having to discuss such personal matters with a man who was really almost a stranger to him. “I had heard that the EMH had convinced Gretchen to come stay with you. I was wondering why, but now I have my answer.”

“Actually, I suggested to Gretchen that she should come for a visit.” The men shared a moment of understanding. “I will use whatever means necessary to protect Kathryn – even if it includes subjecting my wife to the dictatorship of her mother.” This time Jean-Luc chuckled. “And I would never wish to be in my mother-in-law’s dog house. I would prefer listening to Vulcan poetry, I think.”

“I am sure that if you converse with Commander Tuvok, he would be willing to oblige your interest, if necessary.” Chakotay’s smile broadened as he recalled old conversations about the legendary Janeway matriarch. “Kathryn talked about her family quite a lot over the years. When I met Gretchen and Phoebe for the first time, I actually felt that I already knew them rather well.”

“They can be overwhelming when they decide to be.”

“Gretchen more so than Phoebe,” Chakotay interjected.

Admiral Picard actually grinned in response. “I agree. I actually do know them rather well, too, Chakotay.” Jean-Luc stood and walked over to his replicator. “I’ve been a friend of the Janeway family for more than twenty years. And I have always been impressed as well as simultaneously intimidated, by them – especially en masse.” 

Chakotay shuddered to think about what it took to intimidate this legendary officer.

Jean-Luc turned to his replicator and announced, “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” He then nodded toward the perfectly functioning replicator whose programming would never dream of malfunctioning for this particular admiral. “Anything, Captain?”

“I’ll have exactly the same.”

“Kathryn did mention once or twice that she felt cursed because she was surrounded by tea-swilling men...” Jean-Luc was still smiling as he replicated another mug and then brought the two mugs back to his desk. “Cookies?”

“I won’t say ‘no’ if Mildred baked them.”

Blinking in surprise that this man was using Mildred’s first name, Jean-Luc’s smile became more warm; more accepting of this man, as he reached for the silver cookie tray.

“They are indeed, Mildred’s cookies. She’s been forcing them upon me for more than a decade. I used to give my leftover cookies to Mr. Worf until I found out that Mildred was giving the Klingon as well as most of my old staff, cookies on an almost daily basis too.”

Chakotay glanced over at the fancy tea service.

Jean-Luc understood the unasked question about why he had used the replicator. “I only use the tea set when the cadets are around in order to intimidate them and to impress upon them certain behavior protocols. Otherwise, I think that tea never stays warm enough in the kettle much less in the teapot, for me to drink.”

Chakotay nodded in understanding before he finished eating his second cookie. Then he asked, “Now, what is your strategy for keeping Kathryn occupied when she goes on maternity leave?”

Jean-Luc’s smile turned a bit rueful as he acknowledged this man’s understanding of the true nature of Kathryn Janeway. “I was hoping that you would have some tactical advice, Captain.”

The man from Dorvan frankly laughed out loud. “Advice that would actually work? Dream on, Admiral. When Tuvok and I joined forces with the Doctor, we could force Kathryn to behave for a shift or two if she was in a benevolent mood. But me, by myself making any suggestion that she should relax and take it easy, much less eat something or sleep? It was always a coin toss as to whether or not she’d agree with me or confine me to the brig.”

“My assessment of the lady’s typical response, as well. One of my plans to circumvent Kathryn’s stubborn nature, is to have Kathryn help with the vetting of the students applying to the Academy. That should keep her off of her feet for at least a few hours a day, every day.”

Chakotay nodded, considering this suggestion. “You might also want Kathryn to check out the more mature and experienced applicants – especially those with degrees or extraordinary life experiences - as well. What an admiral bureaucrat on a review board might automatically reject, Kathryn would ride roughshod over that decision, delve, and then get to know the candidate before she would consider denying them the Academy.”

“And the other admirals be damned.” Jean-Luc nodded. “If she can turn a former Borg drone into your wife, she can accomplish just about anything. Your suggestions are certainly excellent ideas. Plus, I do get quite a few resigned officer or crewman reinstatement requests on a monthly basis that she could review, too. Anyone who has to go through an Academy re-orientation course.”

Chakotay didn’t quite know what to say about this opinion of Seven of Nine.

As if Jean-Luc knew how much he had just disconcerted the man, he added, “I am aware of the current personal difficulties that Kathryn is having with you. And Annika.”

“I see.”

Jean-Luc could tell that this man was a bit embarrassed by his knowing.

“Kathryn and I have been very frank about our personal lives to each other, Captain Chakotay. I am well aware that I am a very lucky man who is now expecting the birth of a daughter, because of your mutual choices.”

Since what the admiral had said was the absolute truth, there was no way that Chakotay could protest these words out loud.

“Admiral…”

Jean-Luc shook his head. “Considering everyone that we do have in common, may I suggest that you call me Jean-Luc when appropriate - Chakotay.” 

“Of course… Jean-Luc.”

“Good. Now, let us discuss what is really important…”

Chakotay interjected, “Kathryn’s safety. And your family, of course. Mildred has briefed me.”

“There is that. And no, I don’t think that Mildred is prone to overstatement.” A slight expression of worry crossed over his face. “There is a danger. But we are doing all that can be done, as of now.” He put down his tea mug and said nothing for a few moments. “There is always the Janeway proclivity for obstinancy and meddlesomeness with which one has to deal in order to keep Kathryn safe. I may need your expertise about that, Chakotay.”

“Of course, Jean-Luc.”

“And let us not forget to mention where Kathryn learned such behavior.” He motioned toward his monitor. “It seems that Gretchen has commandeered my monthly upcoming Thursday night barbecue and turned it into a mini-Voyager reunion. After she invited almost everyone involved with Voyager, who is in Sector One, she then discussed the matter with Ludvig. It was only after they had decided upon the menu and the Kladdkaka cake, that Gretchen deigned to inform Kathryn and myself about her plans.” Now chuckling over Gretchen’s maneuvering, he reached for a cookie before asking, “I take it that you have been invited?”

“I think that I was the first person that Gretchen called…”

“You will be coming?”

“If at all possible, Jean-Luc. It depends upon how my wife feels. Annika’s pregnancy has not been easy.” The former Maquis shifted uneasily in his seat as he explained. “Annika had the Borg emotion restraints removed. She is finding it difficult to learn how to deal with her wildly varying emotions as well as cope with her pregnancy. Sometimes, she… overreacts.”

“Pregnant ladies are not exactly predictable,” Jean-Luc agreed, in complete sympathy with this man, at this moment. “And though I was under the domination of the Borg restraints for only a short while, I do comprehend what spending a lifetime under their control can mean.”

Both men were silent for a while before Chakotay’s eyes focused on a proto-Vulcan artifact on Picard’s desk that he had been using as a paperweight for those rare occasions when actual paper might cross over his desk.

“It’s real,” Chakotay half-whispered to himself. 

Picard noticed where his guest’s eyes were staring. “Indeed, it is. I had to play pirate to get it. It’s a long story, but at least when that Enterprise adventure was over, the Vulcans gave this glyph stone to me as a token of their gratitude…” 

Over an hour later found both men still talking, currently debating the merits of a recent archaeological paper about the Ikonians and their similarities to two Delta sites that Chakotay had investigated.

Jean-Luc leaned into his padded back rest, and stretched. “You’d like to go back to the Delta Quadrant, wouldn’t you, Chakotay?”

The man nodded, sighing as he remembered dinosaurs, ancestral spirits and more than a few sites of interest that he just hadn’t had enough time to explore to his curious heart’s content.

“Maybe someday, once the slipstream drive is perfected and becomes reliable, I’ll be able to return to some planets. In many ways, the Delta Quadrant was an anthropological, paleontological and archaeological dream situation.”

“Especially for a man with your passionate interests. I truly do envy you with all that you’ve seen and explored, Chakotay. Pursuing such interests had been part of my dreams in my youth. It was my primary reason for joining Starfleet. But, for far too many recent years, Starfleet has been required to become a military force. It was necessary for the survival of the Federation. But, I do long for the days when I was an explorer first, and not just a ship’s captain in a battle fleet.”

“From what I’ve read about the Dominion War, I can’t say that I am that sorry that Voyager missed fighting in it.”

“It was brutal.” His voice was grim. “Chakotay, being lost in the Delta Quadrant was indeed fortunate for almost everyone on board Voyager – Starfleet or Maquis. Battle statistics indicate that you would have lost most of your crew if you’d been fighting in the Alpha Quadrant.” Jean-Luc was silent for a while, before he spoke again. “I presume that you have heard about the Maquis memorial being built?”

“Yes.” He didn’t wish to be too presumptuous, but the former Maquis captain had to mention, “And I’ve also heard tell about a prominent pair of anonymous admirals who are helping to finance the building of that memorial as well…” He finished off his third cup of tea, before commenting, “…not that Kathryn’s involvement is any surprise to me.”

“But my contributions are, eh?” Jean-Luc understood the irony of it all. “If I had not thought that I could accomplish more working from within Starfleet, I would have seriously considered joining the Maquis myself.”

Chakotay choked, hiding the sound as if it were a cough. He had not been expecting that revelation.

Jean-Luc appeared to not take note of this sound. He slightly moved his head in understanding. “One of these days, but not tonight, I will tell you about my own experiences as a Cardassian ‘guest’ in one of their prison camps.” He glanced away from Chakotay’s now concerned gaze. He was somewhat hesitant to bring up a sensitive topic. “Did Kathryn ever discuss with you about what happened to her – when she was a Cardassian prisoner?”

Slowly, Chakotay nodded in recognition of importance of this question before answering. “Only in vague generalities.” He stared back at the man sensing that this man did know more than he did about Kathryn’s ordeal. “But even when she first told me about her capture, I knew that she was lying or avoiding any mention about most of the details. She obviously told you more of the truth.”

“Not willingly.” Jean-Luc stood and stretched for a second. “But I was there during the aftermath, of when she was rescued; afterwards, when she was recovering along with Admiral Paris…” He sighed. “Kathryn could not deny the truths that I knew. I would not let her. She had to face them all – the torture and the… abuse. She had to learn how to cope with what happened to her. Understanding her truths were part of the reason as to why she’s always trusted me as a friend for I did find her a civilian therapist that she eventually came to trust who did help her.”

Chakotay stood too, moving a few stiff muscles, thinking a bit. He could understand why an admiral’s daughter chose not to use a Starfleet therapist. He wondered in her choice of a civilian had been voluntary…

“Then you must have known Lieutenant Justin Tighe.”

“Kathryn’s late fiancée? I only knew him briefly… To be honest, my assessment of the man was that if he had lived to marry Kathryn, I doubt that the marriage would have survived. He was the sort of man who liked the excitement of conquest. Then he would have become bored, and moved on in search of the next challenging mountain summit.”

“Leaving chaos in his wake,” Chakotay softly whispered, as he tried to comprehend any man becoming bored with Kathryn. Chakotay then considered what he had learned about Mark Johnson, Kathryn’s second fiancée. That relationship made more sense to him now. Mark had been a safe, secure harbor for Kathryn after all the turmoil of Justin and the death of her father.

Jean-Luc walked over to a burled wood cabinet and slid the door open, removing two low ball glasses, for he had noticed the hour. He was off duty, officially. And so was Captain Chakotay. Chartreuse liquid sloshed about the inside squared walls of the decanter that he removed from the cabinet’s built-in bar.

“It’s green,” Chakotay whispered as he remembered an old punch line, eyeing the slightly glowing liquid.

Jean-Luc chuckled as he remembered other occasions with his Aldebaran whiskey. “One of these days I will have to tell you about the originator of that phrase, and my Enterprise’s encounter with the fabled Montgomery Scott… It was a somewhat legendary meeting.” He moved the cut crystal liquor bottle over to the top of his desk and placed it carefully down upon the surface. “Would you care for some, Chakotay?”

After the rapport that Chakotay had spent the past few hours establishing with this admiral, he could not say ‘no’. “A short one, Jean-Luc. I have to go home to my wife, and I have a feeling that Annika is not going to be pleased with the fact that I am running late. And that I had time to stop for a drink.”

Jean-Luc nodded in sympathy. “At least Kathryn understands that my schedule can be erratic…” He poured out the drinks, handed one glass to Chakotay, and then sat back down. “If Annika gives you any difficulty, you might want to mention that you were with ‘Locutus’.”

“Annika is in her second trimester and is very inclined to reminisce about the good old days of Borg ‘efficiency’ and their pursuit of perfection - especially in light of the multitude of my imperfections.”

“I do understand her point of view, Chakotay. For every once in a while, I do get nostalgic about achieving perfection myself.”

Both men lifted their glasses.

“To our wives...”

“May the spirits protect our difficult women…”

TBC


	21. This and That

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 21:

This and That

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn Janeway decided that her mother just might be the most exasperating individual in the entire Alpha Quadrant; and possibly the Gamma and Delta quadrants as well. Even Neelix at his worst, could not have held a candle to her mother's ability to aggravate.

"Mother, you really should have discussed your inviting my crew to my husband's barbecue…"

Her mother interrupted her. "This is your home, too!"

Kathryn ignored her mother as she continued speaking as if she hadn't been cut off. "You really should have discussed this with us before you sent out the invitations and then arranged everything," Kathryn grumbled even as her eyes glazed over trying to decide exactly which 'casual' patio china should be used for the barbecue. She stared at the padd that Ludvig had handed her with the fourteen differently patterned informal dinnerware sets from which she had to choose. When she had married Jean-Luc, she had no idea that her husband's household had more than one antique set of dinnerware for something as simple as a barbecue.

Who really needs more than one set of dishes for a crowd?...

"Kathryn, don't be silly. I know you. And I think that I know Jean-Luc well enough to know what he would have said too, if I had bothered to ask both of you first, for permission. You would have said 'no'. Jean-Luc would have said 'yes'. Or vice versa." Gretchen finished folding a pile of onesies that had been incorrectly folded for some reason, before she stored them on a shelf inside the nursery armoire. Then she glanced about the newly re-created nursery to see if there was anything else that needed to be done – properly. "I merely just kept you from having an argument."

"You don't know Jean-Luc as well as you think, if you can imagine that we would argue over something like this."

"Precisely my point, Katie, dear. I just saved you from undergoing any marital stress over something like this."

Kathryn stifled the impulse to roll her eyes in front of her mother, for her mother was not above chastising her daughter, regardless of how many years she had been missing. Then she realized what her mother had been doing. It took seven years of learning how to master her emotions in the Delta Quadrant in order to keep Kathryn from not revealing her new-found fear to her mother. In her cool, calm and collected 'captain's' voice, she a bit too-casually asked, "Mother, you're not rearranging Ryllis' nursery, are you?"

"Of course not, Kathryn. I'm just making sure that everything is in readiness."

Kathryn was not reassured, for Mildred had explained that one of the unbreakable rules of Picard house was never to upset Ryllis. For Ryllis was at Picard House on her own terms and not those of Jean-Luc Picard.

"Mother, I am months away from giving birth. There is no need…"

"One can never be too prepared. Take it from a lady who knows what she is doing, for I am an old hand at being a grandmother."

"That's not what Phoebe says," Kathryn muttered.

"What does Phoebe know about little girls? So far, she's only given birth to a son. I, at least, have raised two daughters…" She dramatically sighed. "Mind you, Elizabeth Paris has enough grandchildren to form her own Pariseses Squares team…"

As Gretchen continued speaking her mind, Kathryn glanced down at her padd, and decided that maybe picking china was a better way to occupy her time, than to listen to her mother drone on about how she now only had one-and-a-half grandkids to show for all of her mothering efforts.

And then it hit her like a graviton wave. How many years as a captain lost in the Delta Quadrant had she dreamed of listening to her mother complain? She dropped her pad, pushed herself up out of the antique ash rocking chair, and enveloped her mother in as giant of a bear hug her tiny stature would allow.

"Oh, Mother. You don't know… It is so good to hear you complain again. You don't know how much I missed it…" Tears threatened as she then kissed her mother's cheek and hugged her tightly again, burying her face on the shoulder of her mother's soft cotton hand-crocheted sweater. Of course, her mother smelled like lavender. She always had and always would.

"Kathryn, I am not the complaining type!" But the look in Gretchen's eye, said that she understood her daughter's emotions. "You're home," she whispered as she hugged her daughter back. "You are really, totally, absolutely, finally home…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Kathryn?"

"In here," she called out, as she splashed about a little.

Jean-Luc was not exactly that surprised to discover that his wife was taking a bath in their luxurious master bathroom at the end of the day. He opened the connecting door from his closet/dressing room, and entered; his stockinged feet padded against the heated tiles.

He paused and took in the view. A moment later he started removing his duty jacket.

"I take it that you're happy to see me?" she remarked as she inspected her husband, noticing how he was viscerally responding to the sight of her nakedness.

Jean-Luc stopped undressing. "Well, yes, if you don't mind my joining you…"

She laughed, pleased that the sight of her naked pregnant body shielded only by the occasional bubble still could get a rise out of her husband. She felt a purely feminine response to the heat in his gaze. "The water is warm," she advised, as she lifted her arm toward him, "and this lady is hot...," she teased.

He quickly removed the rest of his uniform. He walked up to the sunken ivory to amber striated marble tub.

"Care to wash my back?" Kathryn scooted forward so that Jean-Luc could step down into the tub, behind her.

"Always," was his simple answer, as Kathryn got herself comfy against his chest before she angled her face about for a kiss.

It was sufficient incentive.

About thirty minutes later, they helped each other dry off, and then get ready for bed. Jean-Luc put on his navy-blue robe and then left, in search of a dinner that he knew he would find in stasis in the family dining room. He didn't need to ask if Kathryn had already eaten for his wife was diligently following all of the EMH's 'rules' including what to eat and how often to eat. Though he did offer to bring her back a snack which Kathryn declined.

A little while later, Kathryn turned toward her husband as he climbed into their bed.

"Twins asleep?" For she knew that he always went to check in on them before he went to bed.

"They were when I finished my 'Flotter' story." He chuckled as he slid closer to Kathryn, moving about the sage colored Bringolian sheets and duvet. "I must admit that I did not expect either of them to like 'Flotter' – much less 'Trevis'."

Kathryn threatened to swat him.

"Elitist snob," she ribbed.

Jean-Luc ignored the gesture and her words as he explained, "I guess that there are some aspects of childhood tastes that are universal to children – which as an adult, I do not comprehend."

She nodded in understanding. "I read Flotter when I was a child, dreaming of being able to play with him. However, even though I was an admiral's daughter, my parents would have never permitted the idea of interactive holonovels as entertainment for their daughters – even if a lot of my friends were allowed to enjoy them. We were supposed to read and use our imaginations. And that was that."

He could appreciate that point of view, especially when one considered his Papa not to mention Robert and their attitudes toward modern technology. Suddenly tired, Jean-Luc yawned. Kathryn mirrored this action as well.

Kathryn didn't think it that strange that her bedtime was the same as her step-children, for Jean-Luc usually rose about four-thirty and she normally crawled out of bed about five when she had no other choice. "Which bedroom?"

Jean-Luc took a moment before he understood what she meant. "William's room. After Anna fell asleep, I carried her back to her bedroom. And then returned to reading until William closed his eyes."

She chuckled.

"What?"

"Are you ever going to call William by his real name?"

Jean-Luc carefully considered her question. "I will when my son requests it," was his answer.

"You're a stubborn man," she declared, as she rolled over so that they could 'spoon'.

"Speaking of stubborn…"

She chuckled again into her pillows. "Yes, I did have a 'discussion' with my mother today."

"Did it do any good?"

"She's a Janeway, Jean-Luc. What do you think happened?"

"She's going to run our home from now on?"

"Something like that. I'll try to control her as best I can."

"Kathryn, play the baby granddaughter card whenever you can. That might help."

She could tell that her husband really wasn't that upset by her mother's meddling and controlling. For when and if, Jean-Luc Picard ever needed to take 'control' of a situation, he would do it, regardless of what her mother might think.

"I should warn you."

By the very tone of Kathryn's voice, Jean-Luc stiffened. "What?"

"Pheebs wants to come for a visit… Something about getting away from her tyrant of a husband."

He sighed, and then pulled his wife closer to his chest, with her head brushing up against his olive colored silk pajama shirt.

"I have no objections if she wishes to come," he quietly stated deciding that he did need to get to know his sister-in-law better. "And she can bring her 'tyrant' and Scotty as well, if she wishes it."

"Good. Maybe we can talk her into painting a mural for the nursery."

"You'd better warn her, Kathryn. If she does, then William and Anna will both want murals as well for their bedrooms."

"With Pheebs, idle hands are not something that you want to be around, when she has them. Mother will agree, and that will keep her busy and away from poking her nose around our dungeons or instructing Ludvig on how to be a gourmet cook."

Jean-Luc sort-of followed the convoluted thinking of his wife's words. Assuming that Picard House did not have an official dungeon of which he had yet to be informed or had not noticed, he decided that his wife might be referring to one or more of the sub-basements in the modern wing. "I had noticed that even Gretchen refrains from interfering in Ludvig's domain too much. The fact that he even lets her bake brownies in his kitchen is mind-boggling enough as it is. Ludvig has never ever let Mildred near his ovens. And believe me, that lady has tried…"

Kathryn snuggled, with visions of caramel chocolate brownies for breakfast. Or maybe that peach bread pudding she saw in a container in the small stasis unit. Then she thought of something more pressing. "Flotter," she announced.

This word surprised her husband, for he had just been considering nodding off. "What?"

"I want to hear your 'Flotter' voice."

Jean-Luc's voice dropped half an octave. "What?"

"Your 'Flotter' voice. I wish to hear it."

"Kathryn," he warned.

"Pretty please?" And if that wasn't incentive enough, she elbowed him lightly in the shoulder. "Flotter."

"Oh, Kathryn…," he whispered, in his falsetto, 'Flotter' voice. The things he would do to keep his pregnant wife happy. "Sweet dreams… Belle nuit…"

She sighed, snuggled closer, and then closed her eyes, but sleep wasn't coming easy this night.

A while later, she thought she heard him murmur, "Beverly…"

With a sigh, she forced her eyes to close again, knowing that she really shouldn't be hurt by what her husband had mumbled. But she was…

TBC


	22. Thursday Night BBQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc and Kathryn throw a BBQ, and nothing disastrous happens in spite of the fact that Q is there.

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 22:

Thursday Night Barbecue

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Locutus."

Her unemotional voice had startled him. Looking up from his library terminal, he watched Annika Hansen step into his sanctuary. Surprisingly, she looked nervous as she stepped closer to this man. She was wearing a flowing, ankle length pale rose chiffon dress; she was no longer trying to disguise her now obvious pregnancy.

He had just momentarily dashed into the library to check on the status of some reports that he had been expecting from the captain of the USS'Pappy' Boyington. Mid-terms were looming on the horizon, and he wanted to get a 'feel' as to how his space cadets were doing without their Maquis tactical teacher on board. For Captain Chakotay had asked him a question as to how his former pupils were coping without their old Maquis tutor-tactician. And Jean-Luc was happy to oblige for he was curious as well. And his curiosity was now well satisfied for Captain Chakotay's lessons had carried over to the next class in tactics.

He switched off his terminal and stood, stepping away from his medium sized Arts & Crafts oak desk. Mildred had placed in storage the magnum sized golden oak desk that he had once shared with Beverly.

The merrymaking of the Thursday night barbecue could be heard in the distance.

"Is there something I can do for you, Annika?" He didn't think that she'd prefer to be called 'Mrs.' anything. Somehow, to his eyes, she almost looked scared.

"I… wish to apologize."

He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"The way I've been acting – toward you and toward Admiral Janeway. Chakotay has pointed out my… rudeness."

"I've taken no offense from your behavior, Annika. And as for my wife, well, that is something that you must discuss with her. I know that some of your words have, on occasion, distressed her."

"She did not deserve my disapprobation."

Jean-Luc walked over to her. He spoke kindly. "No, Kathryn did not. But I can assure you, that she will understand. She has a very forgiving nature when it comes to those she considers 'family'." He smiled reassuringly as he gently clasped her hand. He noticed that her fingers were icy cold. "Would you like some hot tea or perhaps, a sweater? You seem chilled."

"There is no need. I will adjust."

Accepting this statement, he guided the former Borg over to the couch and sat down, motioning for the lady to sit as well. Then he removed from the back of the couch, the 'crazy' quilt that had once belonged to Beverly's grandmother. He draped the quilt over Seven's lap. "You don't always have to 'adjust', Annika."

"I was not myself," Annika explained, as she tried not to reveal how nervous she still was, in this imposing man's presence. "When I started having difficulties with the admiral, I had just had my emotional cortex control removed. The results of its removal have been… problematic."

"When?" This news surprised Jean-Luc for he had not thought that this specific Borg device was something that could be removed from a full-blown drone once it had been fully integrated into her systems.

"On board Voyager. Right before I began my sexual relationship with my husband."

Things began to make sense to Jean-Luc, now. "I see. Seven…" He had not suspected how strong this former Borg's desire for emotional freedom and normalcy was. "I take it that you are still under the supervision of your EMH?"

"Yes. The EMH is monitoring everything. Scolding…" She looked away from him, focusing her eyes on the large portrait of Kathryn that hung on the wall. "I had not realized how difficult controlling my emotions would turn out to be – especially after becoming pregnant. I should have been expecting it, but I did not. Emotional outbursts do not help my efficiency."

"Obviously, you have found something to help… your efficiency and everything."

She displayed a small smile. "Chakotay has convinced me to go on spirit quests with him."

"Yes, Kathryn did mention those spiritual journeys to me, that she had shared with her First Officer."

"They seem to be working. I am no longer … angry, at Kathryn Janeway."

"Good. I will convey to Kathryn your remorse."

"I will discuss the matter with Admiral Janeway when the appropriate moment arises as well."

He stood for he had noticed that the laughter from the terrace was getting much louder. Much louder. "I must get back to the party."

"May I sit here for a while?"

Surprised that this former Borg was even asking, Jean-Luc nodded his permission. For this ex-drone was looking a little peaked at the moment. "Rest as long as you wish, Annika. And if you need anything, just ask. The bell pull by the fireplace will activate the inter-household comm system."

Neither one heard Gretchen step aside from the outside of the double terrace French doors. There was a pleased smile on her face. Any lingering doubt about her son-in-law's ability to withstand Borg temptation had been quietly settled. As for other mere mortal men being around Seven of Nine, that was their problem. It no longer was anything that Gretchen had to speculate about.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"And there I was, privately lamenting the fact that at the start of our journey back to the Alpha Quadrant, I would not be able to get any coffee out of that there nebula…"

Almost all the guests, both Voyagers as well as Starfleet and cadet, were seated around an open pit fire. The Voyagers were the ones who were doing most of the talking – especially Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay.

Midst the genial laughter over Kathryn's lament, one cadet who was actually brave enough to ask an admiral a question – no doubt slightly fortified by the near-ale punch that had been provided – shouted out, "What happened to the nebula? You didn't leave it wounded, did you?"

Kathryn Janeway eyed the bold cadet. "Of course, we healed the nebula creature. What else would a good Starfleet crew do, cadet?"

The cadet opened his mouth again. But one of his friends judging the admiral's body language, realized that maybe his friend shouldn't be asking any more questions, interrupted and queried, "I heard tall tales about a macro-virus?"

Making note of the identity of the second cadet and his diversionary tactics, Kathryn's smile broadened. Taking in another deep breath, she started talking all about the fun of going ooey-gooey virus hunting. She was telling the story in a dramatic fashion, as best she could in the long-standing tradition of being an Irish lass who had grown up the granddaughter in a family of infamous Irish story tellers.

From afar, standing by the open French doors to the library, Jean-Luc Picard watched his wife hold court. She was in her element in front of this admiring group that included cadets and quite a few non-Voyager officers. He could tell that his wife was thoroughly enjoying herself this night. He stepped out onto the flagstone of the upper terrace as he continued observing.

"Magnificent, isn't she," a quiet voice stated. Jean-Luc did not have to look behind him to know that it was Q speaking.

"On this, we most certainly do agree," Picard amiably stated as he still observed his wife. His wife seemed to be almost glowing in the firelight, filled with energy and joy. He was simply enjoying watching her. And he also was inclined to be kind to Q this night.

Chakotay was speaking up now, adding more to Kathryn's version of this tall tale-telling. He could tell that the cadets wanted to hear all the disgusting details about how the macro-virus used Voyagers' crew as incubators.

Jean-Luc recognized that his wife and her former first officer were so comfortable speaking together, that neither one realized how often they were finishing off each other's sentences; embellishing each other's outlandish statements. He could tell that they had spoken thus in the past; and had done it often.

A small hand reached over and patted Jean-Luc's arm. Gretchen stepped up, next to her son-in-law. "Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me, Jean-Luc." She glanced over at Q. "And for your help, too, Mr. Q. It is so good to see her like this – her old self."

"Kathryn brought herself back," Jean-Luc softly corrected.

"That she did, Jean-Luc. But you helped her along to returning again to being the Kathryn that once was my daughter. She is actually enjoying herself. Now she is full of life, again."

Q sniggered over that sentence as his perverted mind went immediately to visions of how Kathryn had become 'full of life' with Jean-Luc's participation in that creation. Gretchen sent Q a Janeway death glare that effectively shut him up (for where do you think the daughter had learned it?)

"I just helped Kathryn fight her way through the maze of Starfleet bureaucratic banality," Jean-Luc reluctantly admitted. "And other things," he added, sotto voce.

Gretchen smiled at this bit of under-exaggeration. "I know better." She looked down at the crowd on the lower terrace. "Look at them, Jean-Luc. Look at your cadets reveling in this experience."

"What?" He didn't quite understand.

"Those youngsters are going to get free drinks in far-away bars for the rest of their lives, because of the tales they will tell about this night. This night will be one of the nights that those cadets will vividly remember. All the Voyagers and their stories will eventually acquire mythic significance." Gretchen's continuing glances over at Q was sufficient enough warning to keep Q from chiming in.

"I was just going to ask if I could do anything more to help make this a memorable night?" Q meekly suggested.

Remembering Q's 'help' at a Christmas party long ago, Jean-Luc's answer was terse. "No."

"But we're creating and embellishing legends here! And you know how legendary the Q can be…" For this night would be yet one more incident that would permanently cement the legend of Kathryn Janeway and her intrepid crew in the firmament of Starfleet's most hallowed heroes. "I could help!"

Gretchen decided to be practical as she reached behind Jean-Luc and grasped Q's arm, tugging it away from this admiral. "If you really wanted to be helpful to Jean-Luc and Kathryn, you could help by putting the twins to bed. It's way past their bed time."

Q displayed a most unholy smile at the thought of all the fun that he could have with his fairy godchildren this night, if he put them to bed.

Jean-Luc quickly spoke up, correctly interpreting Q's expression. "To bed – only! No star hopping! No time traveling! No primordial amoeba!" Realizing that maybe he sounded a bit too much like an overcontrolling autocrat, Jean-Luc more calmly continued, "But, if you wish, you could tell them a suitable - for their age - bed time story. But if they wake up with nightmares, I will know precisely whom to blame." Q looked suitably discouraged. Jean-Luc just had to smile at the demi-god's expression. "And then you could come and play with them tomorrow after their lessons. I know that Anna and Billy Bob would enjoy that."

Gretchen and Q started giggling simultaneously.

"What?" Jean-Luc tried not to sound like he was getting annoyed for at the moment he had not a clue.

Gretchen returned to patting Jean-Luc's arm, for he had not realized what he had just called his son. Again. "Nothing, Jean-Luc. Nothing at all." She glanced over as the nervous member of the Continuum started to wilt under her gaze. "Q will be a good boy, won't you, for tonight at least. Q?"

The Q could only quake at the unspoken punishments guaranteed behind the look of warning in Matriarch Janeway's eyes. He was not about to cross this lady; at least, not on this night.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Half an hour later, Jean-Luc, after finally getting a chance to eat some dinner consisting of teriyaki salmon and roasted corn, couldn't help but notice that Captain Chakotay was now somewhat subdued in contrast to his prior behavior. The man was constantly glancing about.

Jean-Luc did not have to be Dixon Hill to figure out what was concerning the captain. He walked over to the man and softly stated, "The last time I saw Annika, she was resting in the library." He glanced over at Kathryn and Tom Paris who were now animatedly describing Kathryn's first taste of Neelix's 'better than coffee' coffee substitute to their enraptured audience. And her subsequent comments about Neelix as he had tried to improve on his coffee substitute.

"She should have told me that she wasn't feeling well!"

Jean-Luc totally sympathized with the man's concern for his wife. "Annika was simply sleepy, not ill, Chakotay. Besides, I showed her where the inner-house comm unit was in case she needed something." He jerked his head toward a tall woman on the far side of the fire pit crowd. "And there is a real doctor in attendance, if we need one. She is my former Enterprise CMO, Admiral Catherine Pulaski." He shook his head as if displeased. "When she's on Earth, she always shows up at my barbecues, whether I invite her or not."

Chakotay did not care to ask why this admiral did not refuse the lady admiral's entrance into his own house if he really didn't want her here. Chakotay then glance about, surprised that he had not noticed that the EMH was not in attendance before now. "Where's Doc Joe?"

"I believe he received an emergency summons right after he arrived. He said his hellos to Kathryn, earlier in the evening, and then he had to leave." Jean-Luc reached over and picked up a glass of cabernet off of a tray on a patio table, and then motioned toward the upper terrace stairway. "I'll show you where Annika is. She is not that far away from the party."

What Jean-Luc had not expected to see when he entered the library with Chakotay, was Annika Hansen laughing and merrily – for her - chatting away with Gretchen Janeway. They were both seated on the sofa, and conquering the luscious-looking remaining contents of a rather large tea cart. Gretchen acted like she was the Cheshire Cat.

"There you are, Jean-Luc. How dare you treat a guest this way!" Gretchen firmly stated.

"What?" Jean-Luc was confused as he stepped over to mother-in-law, trying to grasp the nuances of this situation. Somehow the sight of Gretchen being cozy with Seven of Nine seemed a bit unsettling. Disturbing.

Chakotay in the meanwhile, had rushed over to his wife's side and clasped her hand, checking her over as if he expected to find her in labor.

"You left a guest starving! I had to call Ludvig to rectify your error." Gretchen waved a hand toward what little was left of the sandwiches and desserts as if it were a sufficient explanation.

"I, uh…"

Then Gretchen laughed again somewhat pleased with Jean-Luc's discomfiture, and Annika joined her.

"Gretchen is just like Admiral Janeway," Annika explained to her still hovering husband. As if to reassure him. "She has to worry about everyone." Surprising them all, Annika leaned over and kissed Gretchen's cheek, as if she were thanking the woman for something. "And I am pleased that Gretchen was here to enlighten me."

"We just had some 'girl' talk," Gretchen quickly explained, lest Jean-Luc think that his mother-in-law was being a busybody.

Annika nodded. "I had some questions which the Doctor could not answer. Gretchen was kind enough to respond to my concerns."

Deciding that discretion might be a wise idea, Chakotay stood; he still held his wife's hand. "Are you ready to leave?"

Annika shook her head, then stood without assistance. She neatly folded the lap quilt and placed it back over the ridge of the couch. "Not at the present time, husband. I wish to visit with our crewmates before we leave. I have not had much discourse with them this evening."

This response surprised both Chakotay and Jean-Luc for neither man would have guessed that Annika would wish to stay at a party. It had not been her custom in the past.

Gretchen simply nodded her approval before the former first officer and astrometrics officer walked off into the night toward the sound of laughter.

Gretchen observed the somewhat discombobulated expression on her son-in-law's face. "Well, somebody had to talk some common sense to the girl. Explain what's what. She's very scared about being pregnant, especially when she herself feels that she is not ready yet, to become a mother. The Borg had no protocol for pregnant drones." Gretchen stood and stroked a few of the silk velvet patches on the quilt as she changed the subject. "I am glad for Anna and Billy Bob that you have kept some of their grandmother's thing around. Children need to feel a tangible connection to their ancestors as well as to their mother's family." Gretchen nodded toward the open doorway. "That poor child has been so isolated from humanity because of what happened to her. Annika has no sense of continuity. Ancestors. All the little human things that we learn then take for granted as we grow up. Helping her connect to us - to her Starfleet family - is the least we can do for her as well as for Kathryn's peace of mind." With that pronouncement, Gretchen walked back out onto the terrace, leaving a bemused Jean-Luc Picard in her wake.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

When the party was finally quieting down, Jean-Luc groaned as he sat down on the sofa in the library. On the table before him was a large highball filled with whiskey and club soda. Next to it was a pedestal mug filled with Ludvig's decaf coffee. He was awaiting Kathryn's presence.

"Oh," she sighed as she came up behind him, and lowered herself onto the sofa, leaning forward, as Jean-Luc automatically placed a back-rest pillow, behind her. He plumped it automatically. "Everyone is gone," she announced.

"I'd said our good nights to everyone about half-an-hour ago," Jean-Luc quietly commented.

Kathryn accepted his words with a nod. "Dr. Pulaski wished to speak with me."

He leaned forward, suddenly concerned. "And?"

Kathryn shook her head as she correctly interpreted Jean-Luc's thought processes. "Not to worry, Jean-Luc. Catherine was just informing me that she'll be on Earth for the next six months. Something to do with her medical fleet. Then there was some gossip about Deanna's pregnancy. Apparently, all of hospital fleet's CMOs and doctors have a betting pool going. Catherine suggests that it will be a girl. That is, if I would be so inclined to make a bet." She looked away for a moment. "I wonder what odds our former crews are giving for their betting pools, since the knowledge of our having a daughter still hasn't hit the gossipmongers just quite yet." She leaned forward and patted her husband's chest, as he tried to return to his former relaxed state. "Anyway, what she really wanted to know was if she should ask our EMH if she could help when I go into labor. Said something about it being a 'tradition'." She handed him his drink.

"Dr. Pulaski delivered the twins," he grumbled.

"Yes, I know. She had a jolly old time telling me that story." Kathryn smiled. "She had a practical suggestion about what to do when I go into labor." He raised a single eyebrow. "Catherine suggested that you tie Q to a chair with plasma handcuffs, in the waiting room, when the time comes." She took a sip of her coffee. "I wouldn't mind if Q were there as long as he doesn't interfere." She glanced sideways around the room, as if she were searching for something, or someone.

"Why would Q…" Jean-Luc shut up. He immediately gleaned future problems. "Beverly was his friend."

"But I am Q's favorite bi-pedal humanoid according to him," Kathryn explained with a rather large grin on her face. "Of course, Q will interfere. How could he resist?"

"Knowing Q, he'll problem bellow a proclamation and then insist that the birth of our daughter is an important enough event to become a Federation galactical holiday."

A bodiless voice suddenly echoed about the room. "What a splendid idea, Jean-Luc. Thanks for suggesting it!"

After a few moments of silence as both admirals contemplated Q's propensity toward eavesdropping, Kathryn glanced about again, and finally spoke. "Do you think Q is gone?"

"Even if he is, we both know that he will be back."

They groaned simultaneously over this observation. Then Kathryn stood, finishing off her coffee, and announced, "I think that I will be sleeping in, tomorrow morning." She knowingly glanced down at her husband, who suddenly had a distressed expression.

"And I have to be up by oh-four-hundred." He glanced at the antique SESSIONS oak mantel clock which still worked. "Which is less than five hours from now."

"Oh, I think that I can persuade you to sleep in, in the morning." She sent him a wicked glance. "I think that you will admit that I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it."

He had to think about it for a nano-second, and then nodded his head. "If we get out of bed by oh-seven-hundred, I can still make it to the Academy by oh-eight-hundred.

"And just what did you mean by 'we', oh most noble one? Maybe I wish to sleep in."

He smiled. "I think that I will let loose the twins if your direction if you don't get up…"

TBC


	23. Shifting Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's been an accident...

Chapter 23:

Shifting Pieces

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was by the very way that Mildred entered his office, without buzzing first, or entering with her usual energy, that immediately put Jean-Luc Picard on alert. The expression on her face was the final indicator.

"What has happened?" His words were terse.

She stilled, drew a deep breath and then stepped in front of his desk. "There's been a shuttle crash at Jupiter Station. Captain Chakotay and Annika Hansen were on it. From what little I've learned, it's serious." She took a step closer, leaning slightly forward, as if she were almost contemplating bracing her hands on the front edge of the desk. "Their EMH has already been photonically transferred to the Station's sickbay where all of the injured have been beamed. He will accompany them – if they can be moved – to Mars Medical. And then to Earth."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "Does Kathryn know?"

"Not yet. But you should get to her before the news services pick up on it."

"Is Kathryn still at home?"

"I checked before I came in here. She is."

"Reschedule all my appointments…" He was already racing out the door before Mildred whispered that she had already done so for that's what interns were for.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc found his wife in the restored nursery with her mother. At first glance, it looked as if Gretchen had been trying to teach Kathryn how to fold onesies.

Kathryn started to greet her husband with a smile. Then she saw the expression on his face.

"There's been a shuttle crash."

Kathryn blanched; she stumbled away from the changing table to reach the nearest upholstered bench. She already sensed the answer to the unasked question as to whom had been injured when she whispered, "Chakotay."

"And Annika. They are alive. That's all I know."

She mutely gazed at Jean-Luc for just a moment; the raw pain in her eyes was heart-wrenching. And then her eyes changed, as emotions were shuttered and her discipline asserted itself. She stood, plucking around her every centimeter of resolution she could garner from her former captain's mantle. "I must go to them, Jean-Luc."

He nodded, accepting her attitude as if it were something that he had been anticipating. For he knew his wife's mettle. "I've already sent for my yacht. It should be setting down on our landing pad in about five minutes." He walked up to his wife and rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Your EMH has already been transported to the injured. We'll find out more, once we are on our way there."

Kathryn denied him, as she coldly stated, "Jean-Luc, you don't have to come. They're my crew."

"And you are my wife which now makes them our friends and comrades, Kathryn. Of course, I'm coming." He looked over at Gretchen, noticing her concern as well as her comprehension of what all of this could possibly mean. "Will you explain our absence to the twins when they return with Ryllis?"

"Of course, Jean-Luc. Don't worry about them. I will take care of everything here..."

Jean-Luc did not doubt his mother-in-law could and would, for a nanosecond.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was not a good day for another member of Jean-Luc Picard's family as well. With great concern, Lwaxana Troi observed and sensed a solitary Wesley Crusher as he wolfed down his lunch in Ten-Forward. It was as if the lad wanted to give the impression to those around him that he was too busy with important stuff, to take the time to socialize with the Enterprise crew. She watched him quickly walk away when he had finished eating his sandwich.

Lwaxana knew for a fact that the opposite was true. Their visit to DS9 had yielded very little new information about the whereabouts of Beverly Picard. The Enterprise was now on its way to Ferenginar to confront Quark's relatives as to the source vid of the scene in the bar.

Quark had joined the quest for Beverly, and would help Captain Riker and Lwaxana Troi deal with his family, the Nagus, and all of the other complications that a Starfleet investigation on Ferenginar might create. For he still remembered how much he owed one Beverly Howard Crusher Picard.

It was Quark who walked up to Lwaxana, and handed her a Centaurian version of a mimosa. Without saying a word, Lwaxana took it, drained the flute, and then eyed Quark with a questioning look. From behind his back Quark produced another mimosa. When Lwaxana finished that one, she finally motioned for Quark to join her.

"Thank you. I needed that."

Quark was immediately suspicious for being around a Lwaxana Troi-Wiley who was acting polite was a rare occurrence indeed. Usually, Lwaxana treated Ferengi like they were her personal servants – if they were one of the lucky Ferengi, that is.

Quark immediately waved his fingers toward the bar catching Mr. Homm's attention. For this shift, Mr. Homm was acting as if he were Ten Forward's bartender. Privately, Quark had speculated if there would be any real alcohol left on board the Enterprise-D after Mr. Homm was done with his bartending.

A moment later, the very tall humanoid arrived at their table, and placed a large pitcher of mimosas in front of Lwaxana. Surprisingly, he had brought an extra glass for Quark.

"I'm worried about Wesley," Lwaxana announced, after she had waited for Quark to fill her flute, and then finished off her third glass of the champagne punch with a Centaurian liqueur kick.

"How so?" Quark always was inclined to be polite to see if he could ferret out information from his quarry. And if that didn't work, he could just wait around until Lwaxana was drunk enough to be more inclined to offer him gossip and answer his questions. Unfortunately, Quark had forgotten just how much alcohol would need to be consumed by Lwaxana in order for the lady to be susceptible to Quark's fishing expedition. Quark would end up being passed out on a stretcher long before Lwaxana even came close to being inebriated.

As Lwaxana watched two sickbay orderlies remove the very incapacitated Quark to sickbay, she smiled. "Nice try, little man," she whispered as she finished off her last glass of mimosa in a salute to the big lobed barkeep. "But I spill no secrets to any man – much less a Ferengi – unless it is my wish to do so. To your credit, I can sense that your concern is genuine. For that, I will forgive you for your many naughty thoughts toward me."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"OUT!"

Surprisingly, the EMH's shouted command worked, where the many protests of all of the other Sickbay personnel from doctors to security had not. Nothing was going to stop Kathryn Janeway or her husband from finding out the medical status of two of her people.

Kathryn took a quick look at the still body of Seven of Nine on the medical bed in the Sickbay of the Burroughs Mars Starfleet facility. She did not look severely injured, though the status of her pregnancy was a worry.

Next to the Emergency Hospital at Starfleet Medical in San Francisco, the Mars facility at Utopia Planetia was the best that Starfleet had to offer in Sector One – especially after Wolf 359, when the facility had been upgraded substantially.

Then Kathryn Janeway looked over to the medical bay where many people seemed to be working on Captain Chakotay. She could see very little of Chakotay's body. But from what she could see, and the way everyone was working about him, she knew his condition was serious – very serious.

Speaking quietly, gently, the EMH added, "I will inform you of their conditions, as soon as I know, Kathryn." He nodded toward Picard. "Admiral."

Accepting this as the final word, for now, Jean-Luc grasped Kathryn's elbow and tugged her backwards, until she turned away and accepted her husband's help in leaving the Sickbay. He could sense how close she was to collapsing.

As they walked into the main waiting area, a young ensign stepped forward, and stated, "Admirals."

At Jean-Luc Picard's nod, the tall, somewhat handsome male ensign continued.

"May I escort you to a more private waiting room? The hospital's director, Captain Doctor Asgaard thought that you might wish to review what information we do have available, about the crash. And to a place where the press will not be allowed." The tan skinned ensign sent a dark-eyed glance toward a far door of the waiting room.

Jean-Luc could see security holding back several individuals waving about holo-cameras and other equipment. He appreciated the ensign's comprehension of the delicacy of the situation. And then Jean-Luc decided that this ensign must have graduated before he had assumed command of the Academy, for he did not recognize the officer.

"I appreciate your concern, ensign?"

"Ryan, sirs. Captain Asgaard has assigned me to assist you, while you are here…" He paused for a moment to study and sense the two admirals who stood before him, before adding, "That is, if you wish it."

"Any help, Ensign Ryan, would be appreciated," Jean-Luc calmly stated

Minutes later, they were ensconced in a small office off of the main waiting with two obvious security guards standing by the inner door. A Lieutenant Pablo Baytart, who just so happened to be one of Kathryn's 'family', was casually positioned by the inner door that would privately lead back to sickbay.

Admiral Picard accurately guessed that Mike Ayala was the man to thank for this officer's appearance. He suspected that more security was on its way, or might already be here, thanks to Lieutenant Reynolds. And Mildred.

"Who was the pilot?"

Jean-Luc turned toward his wife, shifting a bit from his examination of the area. He picked up a padd. "According to this manifest, an Ensign Esposito was the pilot. He did not survive the crash."

Almost imperceptibly, Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. Then, her legs started to wobble. A surprisingly comfortable looking day bed was against the wall that was opposite to the desk with the terminals. With another sigh, and finally admitting, at least silently to Jean-Luc that she was exhausted, she let her husband escort her to the day bed.

Jean-Luc noticed a set of indentations in the carpeting and realized that someone had replaced the sofa that was a standard to almost every Starfleet controlled institution, with a wider but shorter bed. This courtesy was very much appreciated by the admirals. And Jean-Luc decided to meet with the man who was responsible for this consideration, when the situation became less dire. He moved to the desk, picked up the terminal padd, and moved it back over to where Kathryn was sitting. He sat next to his wife, placing the large padd on a small table.

"Cause of crash?" Jean-Luc asked the computer that had all of the current information. He had questions, that his wife seemed unable to voice at the moment.

"Unknown at this time." The voice sounded flatter than usual to Jean-Luc's ears.

"Speculate."

"Initial conjecture is mechanical failure. Followed by pilot error."

"Sabotage?"

"No evidence has been found as of 1600 hours, FST."

Jean-Luc nodded, as he reached over to touch Kathryn's hand and squeezed it. "Any change to the injury report of Captain Chakotay or Annika Hansen?"

"Status still the same," the computer dutifully replied.

Kathryn suddenly pulled her hand away from her husband's touch. "Jean-Luc, look at this. The shuttle's approach trajectory..."

Jean-Luc looked at the scene on display. "The approach angle seems off." He quickly typed something on his padd. And then read it. "Ensign Esposito was a very experienced shuttle pilot. He'd been doing the Mars to Jupiter run for over two years. There's no mention of any kind of problem in his service record."

"Maybe something distracted him…," Kathryn speculated as she reran the approach footage of the shuttlecraft toward the Jupiter station.

The first thing that popped into Jean-Luc's mind was not something that he wanted to mention to his wife. For he had noticed most humanoid male's almost universal reaction to Seven of Nine if they were of a heterosexual bent. The odds were that she was the most disruptive person on board that shuttlecraft.

And then Doctor Joe stepped into the room.

The EMH got right to the point. "He'll live, Kathryn," was firmly stated.

"And Annika?" she whispered.

"A few broken bones and some skin injuries. Already fixed. But…"

"The baby", she whispered again.

"I have had to remove the fetus and place him in a stasis chamber, for the moment."

"What are the child's odds?" Jean-Luc asked, for he believed that any child that was within months of being born, was a living being from Jean-Luc's point-of-view.

"In a way, though there are complications from the baby being part-Borg, it was that Borg part of his physiology that saved his life. Or more precisely Annika's nanoprobes came to the rescue. How I saved his life is a very long story, Admirals. I will tell it at another time. To summarize, now, the moment we can get the 'baby' to San Francisco Medical and into an incubator maturation chamber, the better it will be for the infant." His expression softened as he placed his hand on Kathryn's shoulder. "Everything will become normal once he gets to Earth. And in six weeks or so, Chakotay and Anna will have a healthy baby boy."

Kathryn slumped in relief. "Chakotay has always wanted children…"

The EMH's grip on Kathryn's shoulder stiffened. "I don't think that Anna will be able to safely have any more children. But, of course, in the world of medicine, discoveries are always being made, things change…" The EMH abruptly stopped speaking when he suddenly realized that perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so candid with the admirals.

"Understood, Doctor," Kathryn stated, as she looked for some here-to-fore hidden strength that she had not yet tapped. She stared over at her husband as suddenly, here eyelids fluttered.

"Kathryn has reached her limit." The EMH didn't have to tell Jean-Luc Picard how stubborn the lady could be, especially when she was ordered to do something contrary to her wishes. So, the EMH overrode command protocol and bopped his communicator. "This is Doctor Joseph, the Emergency Medical Hologram. Please transport," he glanced over at Admiral Picard. The man nodded. The EMH continued. "Please transport Admirals Janeway and Picard to their quarters. Now."

Jean-Luc Picard picked up his wife and lifted her from the chair into the safety of his arms. A second later he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Worf nodded at the intruder to his Klingon bat'leth program that he was running in Holodeck 3. "Wesley. You wish to join us?"

The answer was fairly obvious since Wes was wearing an off-white exercise pants and tunic, and was carrying a Klingon weapon.

"Yes, Mr. Worf." He looked about the very humid, densely forested scenario. "Are you working out with anyone else?"

"Will and Geordie have formed a team." Worf jerked his head toward a rock cropping that was well over seven meters tall. "They are attempting to sneak up on us from that direction." He turned, raising his bat'leth. "You will have my back."

As Wes took the proper position, he just had to ask, "What program level is this, Mr. Worf?"

Worf grinned. "Four."

Wes paled. When he was in Starfleet 'fighting' shape, he had made it to Level Two.

"Expect to be beaten to a pulp," Worf just had to inform the Lieutenant Commander. "You have grown soft at Starfleet Headquarters."

It was to Wes' credit, and with Worf's help, that by the time the Enterprise reached Ferenginar, that he had mastered Level Five.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The recuperative facilities on board the Enterprise had always been top notch. As Wes soaked in one of the therapeutic hot tubs, he really appreciated this amenity. Bat'leth training with Mr. Worf was testing his body in ways that Wes hadn't done since the Academy. Even though Wes ran several times a week, and usually fenced with his step-father at least twice a month, he had no idea that he had let himself get so out of fighting shape.

But he accepted Worf's tutelage, for he suspected that the Klingon wanted him to be ready for whatever was coming. For Wes sensed that something was looming in the future before him…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Wes finished eating his dinner in Ten-Forward and decided that maybe he should return to his cabin. Even though he'd been assigned to work with Lwaxana Troi, Wes still had several projects at Utopia Planetia that still required his attention. And it had been a while since he'd worked on any of them.

"Walk with me," a soft voice commanded.

Wes raised his eyes up over his coffee cup and smiled. For Deanna Troi stood before him. She was wearing an amethyst lutestring flowing pants suit outfit whose color only seemed to enhance the glow that was about her. And though her pregnancy was officially showing now, she still seemed to have the energy for that joie de vivre that he always had associated with her.

"Shall we obambulate?" There was a ludic expression on her face as she tossed her curls about a bit. It was as if she were silently challenging him. Or was challenging someone…

"I'd love a walk through the gardens," he replied, suddenly smiling as to how comforting and normal this idea seemed.

"This is not a professional stroll," Deanna warned as she walked arm-in-arm with Wes out of Ten-Forward, well aware that every gossip in the place was watching them leave.

"I didn't think it was," he teasingly replied. "I was just hoping that you were using me to help you avoid your mother for a while. Or vice versa."

"Well, that too," she agreed as they walked toward the turbo lift. "I just want Will to remember that there are plenty of attractive men on board this ship…" She smiled. "Will needs reminding now and then."

"And since you were one of my very first crushes, and just about everyone from Captain Picard on down, knew it…"

She laughed.

And Wesley realized that it had been days since he'd actually relaxed in anyone's presence.

She led the way to the tropical gardens with its bromeliads, palms, and orchids. They stopped in front of one very impressive orchid display that was a mix of Vulcan, Denobulan and Terran orchids.

"Mom used to work on these orchids, whenever she had the chance," Wesley whispered. "That first year on board the Enterprise, I never had to ask the computer where she was if she wasn't in our quarters or Sickbay." He breathed deeply, taking in the mix of subtle perfumes. "She was here."

"Many of the crew volunteer to keep all the orchids growing out of respect for her." Deanna tried to sense was Wesley was feeling but he was very much in control of his emotions at the moment.

Wesley softly smiled. "I know. That's why I love it here. I keep expecting to see her here, wearing that lime green and pink garden apron that I made for her when I was ten, snipping away at the dreaded dead shoots…"

"She loved that apron with all of its pockets, Wesley." Deanna patted the arm she was clutching. "It was one of her most prized possessions."

Wes laughed. "I know. She used to wear it in the orchid greenhouse at Jean-Luc's…" He looked away for a minute. "I had planned on teaching Billy Bob and Anna how to make one for her when they got old enough…"

They looked at the orchids for a few moments longer, before they continued their perambulation.

"You're accepting things," she quietly stated as she guided Wes toward a bench underneath some sheltering palms.

"I don't have much choice but to face reality, do I?"

She still couldn't 'read' him, but she could guess what he was feeling.

"I have to be ready for anything when we find my Mother," he stated, as he finally turned his head to look into Deanna's dark eyes.

"You're sure that we're going to find her, Wes?"

"Somehow, someway, I am sure that we are doing the right thing. Regardless of what has happened to her, she is going to need every iota of love and friendship that we can provide when we finally do rescue her."

This time, Deanna sensed his determination. And the roiling tide of emotions that was layered below that determination. She knew now that he would grieve when his strength no longer would be needed. All that had happened to him from Nova Squadron to losing his mother, had tempered Wes into a remarkable, brave young man. For now, she would not be worried about him. It was what he would feel in the aftermath of their possible discoveries, that could cause concern in the future.

"It's poker night."

Will nodded at this diverting suggestion. "After surviving poker every week with Winston Holt Wiley and his admiralty cohorts, the officers of the Enterprise will be easy pickings."

"Such bravado. You know I'll tell my husband what you said."

"I'm counting on it."

Deanna grinned. What Wes was now letting her sense was his sheer confidence in his poker playing skills. "I do believe I am going to enjoy myself tonight – as an observer." A sudden thought occurred to her as she realized why Wes had learned some Vulcan emotion shield disciplines. She leaned closer to him and whispered, "Bankrupt my Mother, Wes. She needs taking down a peg or two."

"For you, lovely lady, I will. I haven't beat Lwaxana in a while. She tends to hold a grudge when she loses and then goes running to her husband…" He laughed. "You don't want to know Admiral Wiley's definition of scut work."

"When doesn't she hold a grudge?" Deanna laughingly agreed. "Of course, Winnie is quite a few light years away…"

Wesley discovered that he could still could giggle over this thought.

TBC


	24. More Links

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the shuttle crash

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 24:

MORE LINKS

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The voices were low, as if the people speaking did not wish to disturb her. But Kathryn heard them anyway. Bravely prying open one eyelid, she looked about the not-quite-familiar bedroom. The color scheme was different from usual officer quarters, but the style of the blue and gold furniture was most definitely Starfleet standard. She opened her other eyelid, and was surprised to see that she was resting on a very large, comfortable bed, which most definitely was not Federation standard, until she remembered that she was an admiral now, and that these quarters were probably one of the VIP suites on the station.

Kathryn didn't move as she tried to eavesdrop on the conversation between her husband and her EMH.

"When will Chakotay be able to be moved?"

The EMH, which Kathryn had by now deduced was speaking over a terminal, answered, "He should be stable enough in thirty hours, to be moved to Earth. Admiral Pulaski is sending one of her triage ships to transport him safely, as well as all of the other injured passengers."

Picard silently acknowledged Admiral Pulaski's thoughtfulness. "And the baby?"

"As long as the fetus stays in stasis he will be fine until he gets to Earth. Then his healing and development will begin."

The EMH cleared his throat. Jean-Luc was somewhat surprised that the photonic EMH had picked up this human affectation. As the EMH continued explaining, Jean-Luc realized that the doctor was using it as a stalling technique.

"Annika, however, seems very distressed."

"That is understandable, doctor. She has been through quite a trauma."

"No. I mean, I don't quite understand what is going on with her… emotions. She has yet to ask to see her son, or ask to see her husband or even enquire about them. Though she does listen to me when I give her their reports."

Jean-Luc did not see the point that the doctor was trying to make. "That is still somewhat understandable…"

The EMH interrupted him. "No, Annika keeps talking about taking the next ship out. She keeps saying something about being driven to find inner peace."

"Surely, you've recommended a counselor, then."

"So far, Annika has refused to see any of the counselors. Something about their insufficiency, though I'm not quite sure as to the context of her use of that word…"

The outer door to the suite chimed.

Jean-Luc stood, absentmindedly brushing a few crumbs left over from his snack of a few biscuits, off of his olive shirt and slacks. "I will tell Kathryn that you called. I will tell her what you've told me. We will be back at the hospital in a short while, after Kathryn has had something to eat."

The outer door chimed again.

The EMH disconnected the call before Jean-Luc had a chance to push a button, so he announced, "Come."

An agitated B'Elanna Torres and a much more restrained Tom Paris entered the suite. They weren't in uniform. Tom was wearing his favorite blue tunic and B'Elanna was dressed in a comfortable looking long carmine tunic with matching leggings.

"Commanders." Jean-Luc stood and extended his hand.

"I'm here just because I thought that you should know that I've taken over point, Admiral." Tom got around to shaking the admiral's hand. B'Elanna didn't notice it. "I've already contacted all Voyagers about what has happened." Tom Paris glanced over at his wife who was doing a bit of stomping back and forth and sideways, next to him, to see if she had anything to add. B'Elanna was in full engineer 'mode' with a decidedly annoyed Klingon attitude on the side.

"I've already done a preliminary assessment of the crash," she rapidly stated as if she were still quite upset over something.

"And you noticed that the angle of approach of the shuttle craft was off?" Jean-Luc mildly noted.

She stopped moving. She thought that she was the only one on the Mars Station or Utopia Planetia who had noticed it. "Yes," she answered, with somewhat more restraint that she had been displaying.

"Kathryn noticed the angel too." Jean-Luc was always willing to give credit where credit was due.

Tom continued speaking. "As I was saying, all of our 'Voyager family' now knows what happened. But I thought that if Kathryn, that is, Admiral Janeway, wanted me to, I could be her official spokesperson to the media and the Fleet about what has happened. I could release reports, with her approval of course, about what is going on…" He saw the admiral nodding in agreement as the man sat back down in his chair, and then motioned toward the Federation blue upholstered settees that were near him.

"Splendid ideas, Tom," Kathryn announced as she entered the living room, wearing a soft azure tunic sweater over her matching slacks. "You do know how to handle the press quite well. You were most impressive when Voyager arrived home. I don't know if I ever properly thanked you for that at the time."

Jean-Luc stood and escorted his wife over to the settee kitty-corner to where Tom and B'Elanna were sitting. After she was seated, Jean-Luc tried not to appear that he was hovering, as he asked, "Would you like some tea? Something to eat?" He turned toward his guests. "May I get you something as well?"

Tom grew up in a house that had seen its fair share of admirals, but he couldn't ever recall an admiral offering to actually bring him much less a former Maquis engineer, something to eat and drink. "I'll help." He stood and then he cast a swift glance over at his wife. "The usual?" B'Elanna absentmindedly nodded even as she intently focused on her padds. Tom then faced his former captain. "Feel like the usual as well? I can recall that you usually order vegetable bouillon or tomato soup and toasted gruyere baguettes?"

"Bouillon." Kathryn glanced down at her slightly swollen ankles. "Make it low sodium." She thought for a moment. "And maybe some fresh figs on the side," Kathryn added, as she started to relax against the back cushions of her settee. She pondered what else she might be in the mood for, before suggesting, "And ice cream?"

"Coffee ice cream comin' back at ya," Tom called back. No one on board Voyager had ever needed to ask their captain's preferences when it came to flavors of ice cream.

"Dictating woman," Jean-Luc grumbled under his breath as he inspected the small kitchen for a brief second before walking over to the over-sized gourmet replicator.

"Always," Tom remarked as he trailed the admiral into the kitchen; he was not that surprised that a VIP suite's kitchen would be much fancier than the one he currently shared with his wife. There were no 'synthehol'-only requirements on this replicator. "Leopardesses never change their spots," Tom had to comment in order to just disconcert this admiral, a little bit.

Jean-Luc sent him a sideways look, that if Tom had been one of his former officers, would have spoken volumes. But since Tom wasn't, he blithely ignored it for he had been on the receiving end of such looks from his father, for most of his life.

"Commander…"

"Make it 'Tom', Jean-Luc," he interrupted. "We're going to be bumping elbows around here until 'Big Chief' improves."

Surprised at the somewhat overt familiarity which was not something that Jean-Luc would have permitted from his former senior staff even now, Jean-Luc turned to really inspect this shameless man.

Tom grinned for he recognized that specific look too. He was quick with the explanation. "Mildred called me. She said that you were going to need some help in keeping Kathryn from behaving in 'typical Kathryn' mode, of which B'Elanna and I are well acquainted."

Jean-Luc focused on the first sentence of his words. "You know Mildred?" Though somehow, he wasn't that surprised that Mildred Krebs would know Admiral Owen Paris' children.

"I went to high school with two of her kids. Mrs. Krebs was the only mother back then, who never objected to my dating her daughter."

Jean-Luc started chuckling. "Is there anyone in Starfleet that woman doesn't know, Tom?"

"And terrorize? You should know by now that the world of the upper elite of Starfleet is nothing more than a small village of busybodies, Jean-Luc. Where everybody at least knows something about everybody else even if they have never been formally introduced," Tom jested even as he picked up a large oat grain toasted bread BLT for his bride, and the toasted brioches with gruyere, for Kathryn. He nodded at the bouillon soup bowl and tea mugs. "You bring that stuff. I'll come back for the raktajinos and my tomato Florentine soup, the fruit and everything else in a sec."

Slightly confused by the young officer's audacity, but finally beginning to understand why Kathryn was so fond of the man, not to mention his Klingon wife, Jean-Luc did what he was told.

When all the lunch was assembled on the coffee table, there was silence for a while as they all ate. This was probably the most normal, typical meal any of them had eaten since the shuttle craft crash.

And then Kathryn put down her (not Ludvig's special blend so therefore it was Acturian bilge water) caffeine-free coffee. She added cream to the brown water, in the vain hope that it might improve its drinkability. It didn't. And then she leaned back into the cushions. "Accident or something else?" she too-casually asked of B'Elanna.

The half-Klingon nodded her head as she finished off her sandwich. "Right now, I'd say accident. That is, until I get a chance to check over everything in person."

Kathryn nodded. "If anybody tries to interfere with your investigation, well, just send them to me."

"You're catching on to this admiral business," Tom laughed.

Kathryn chuckled. It was the first natural humorous sound that Kathryn had expressed since they had first heard the news about the accident. Jean-Luc began to appreciate Tom Paris' skill in dealing with his wife.

"I think I was born to be an admiral… at least, that's what my father used to say when I was trying to dictate to him…"

"No, you were born to be a 'captain'," Jean-Luc countered. "Now, being an 'admiral' is our punishment, er, reward, for having been too damned good of a captain."

At this statement, Kathryn actually laughed. "You always are full of it, Jean-Luc. That's what I love about you. What makes you think that I'd ever called you a 'good' captain."

He gazed at her as if he had no reaction to her words, knowing better than to make a comment.

"I think I actually called you 'one of the greatest'," she teased as she leaned over to squeeze his left hand.

Tom observed the way they were interacting with each other, and finally decided that maybe Kathryn Janeway marrying Jean-Luc Picard had been a good thing, after all.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Admiral Picard, may I speak with you?"

Jean-Luc looked up from his terminal in the private waiting room, and watched as Annika approached. He slightly nodded his permission for her to come closer.

"How may I be of help, Annika?"

"It's about my son. And other matters." She spoke stiffly, as if she were uncomfortable with the very idea of having a child, much less speaking about him with Locutus. "The doctor has been in contact with Commander Tuvok and certain other Vulcans on Vulcan."

Then she stopped speaking.

After a moment, Jean-Luc filled in the silence and asked, "And?"

She spoke as if she were struggling with the topic that she had chosen to discuss and how best to give voice to it. "Commander Tuvok thinks that there are Vulcan therapists whose disciplines might be beneficial with my struggle for learning how to control my emotions. I have come to realize that I cannot do so by myself."

"That could be true. I know that when I had a mind meld with Sarek a few years ago, I acquired quite a few Vulcan mental disciplines that have been of benefit to me, over the years. They have helped me achieve control in difficult situations." He nodded. "They have served me well over the years."

"I am thinking of going to Vulcan. Will you assist me?" Then she said nothing more.

Jean-Luc waited a while for her to continue before he stated, "Going to Vulcan might be a wise idea. Of course, Kathryn and I will help you with whatever you need to have done."

"Thank you. I shall inform you of my decisions."

With that, the former Borg, swiveled with typical Borg precision, the sway of her dark blue skirt, twirling about her legs. And then, without another word, she walked back into the room where her husband was recuperating.

Jean-Luc was somewhat confused by the lady's actions. Her lack of emotions toward her husband and son were disquieting. Under normal circumstances, he would have more closely considered Annika's actions and reactions. But at the moment, his concerns were focused elsewhere.

TBC


	25. Changes, They Are A'Comin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc starts making plans

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 25:

Changes, They Are A'Comin'

=/\= =/\= =/\=

She was restless as they both tried to sleep. Jean-Luc was learning that Kathryn's insomnia was a continuing health issue. He could sympathize, since he'd been a companion of sleeplessness for far too many years as a captain too. Only the dramatic change of his lifestyle, becoming the Superintendent of the Academy, as well as a marriage and twins, had finally tipped the sleeplessness scale into a somewhat healthier routine since Jean-Luc was usually exhausted by the end of a typical day.

After Kathryn had gotten pregnant, she had been sleeping more on a daily basis until the shuttle craft crash. Of course, an unfamiliar bed in a place that wasn't Earth, was a contributory factor to her insomnia. But at the heart of it was his wife's concern about Chakotay, Annika and their son. And there was nothing that Jean-Luc could do about it other than offer unwavering support.

"I'm awake," she announced to her restless husband.

"I'd noticed."

"I think I should go back to Sickbay."

"We left there less than two hours ago, Kathryn. Tom is sitting watch. If there had been any change, you would have been the first to be notified."

"And not Annika?" There was a sense of surprise to her question.

"Kathryn," he warned. "Annika is dealing with her own issues."

"Which she has told you, and not me?" she not-too-subtlety hinted.

"She has her reasons. I am sure, that once she comes to terms with her problems, she will tell you." He raised himself up on an elbow to peer into the dimness at his supine wife. "Are you upset because she is upset, or is it the fact that she did not turn to you for counsel?"

She dodged that question. "I'm surprised she didn't discuss this with the doctor."

"I think that it was your doctor who suggested she should talk to me, Kathryn. He is aware of my general antipathy toward most counselors with a certain Bajoran exception."

Kathryn mumbled, "Seven didn't come to you asking your advice on how to avoid counselors, did she?"

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Nice try, Kathryn." He lowered himself and smuggled a little closer to Kathryn. "After Annika talks to you, and with her permission, I will tell you about my conversation with the lady."

She swatted him. "You're impossible, you know that! You…

"Chakotay warned me that you liked to wheedle."

Kathryn was taken back by this statement. Was her former First Officer conspiring with her husband? And when had he done it? She had not thought that it was possible. But when it came to men one never knew for sure.

"When did Chakotay tell you that?"

"Hush, Kathryn. I cannot tell you." He sighed dramatically before announcing, "Temporal prime directive."

She bolted upright. "What?" Her voice was colored with disbelief.

If the Temporal Police were interfering again…

"Hush, Kathryn." He just smiled up at her knowing that he had gotten her goat, as it were. "Chakotay mentioned that the use of that particular phrase works pretty well on you if one wishes to change the subject of a conversation."

She mentally grrred. Chakotay had taught her husband how to shut her up? Both of them would pay…

He pulled her back down into his arms, even as Kathryn made a promise to herself about how she would pay them back when they were least expecting it.

"When were you and Chakotay..."

He silenced her with a quick kiss on the neck. "Me to know and you to find out." He lightly kissed her lips before wisely changing the subject for her was not fooled by Kathryn's calm exterior. "Would you like for me to rub your back?" For Jean-Luc was well aware of how strained her muscles were becoming from being pregnant.

Knowing that her husband was in one of his adamantine moods, she could only respond to his second suggestion. "Oh yes…" She rolled over and smiled into her pillow. "Would you throw in a massage as well?"

For Kathryn knew when it was strategically wise to temporarily surrender…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"She wants to what?" Jean-Luc sat at his private terminal in his guest quarters, staring at Roland Hand, Esq., the lawyer who now handled the private affairs of the Picard family.

"She wants to name you and Kathryn temporary guardians of her fetus."

"But, her husband is sure the most appropriate guardian…," Jean-Luc protested.

"Once Chakotay is awake and cognizant he will regain custody without any difficulty. But until then, Annika Hansen wants the two of you to protect her child." The man raised an eyebrow. "Do you accept?"

Jean-Luc shook his head. "I will have to consult with Kathryn, but I cannot imagine that she will decline." He gave Roland a glare that his former senior offices on board the Enterprise would have instantly recognized. Roland Hand was not unfamiliar with such looks, but he always ignored them when he could.

Roland Hand only smiled at his client's display of temperament. "I will be in contact with you and Admiral Janeway before you return to Earth. And I will let you know if there is anything else which Annika Hansen wishes for me to discuss with you."

With this cryptic statement, the man signed off, leaving behind a somewhat perplexed Jean-Luc.

A moment later, he contacted Ryllis, to enquire about the twins. After being given a detailed report about their schoolwork and activities, he was switched over to Mildred.

"Good to see ya, Boss."

Whenever Mildred was this casual in talking to him, he knew that she had some non-Starfleet business, better known as 'gossip' to convey to him.

He sighed as he settled back against his chair, knowing that Mildred was going to tell him whether he really wanted to hear it or not.

"What?"

"The puppies have arrived." She merely smiled as she waited for his reaction. She was not disappointed. For she had a sneaking suspicion that Jean-Luc was not a 'dog' person. Which was not exactly accurate, for his family home had always had dogs, but none were ever 'house' pets; at least not during Jean-Luc's childhood.

Jean-Luc groaned as he comprehended what the arrival of the puppies meant. "Their birthday." He quickly glanced over to the corner of the screen to see what day it was. "It's in two days."

Mildred just had to add, "And Gretchen is teaching the twins how to train their puppies." She snorted. "I think though that the lessons are geared more toward the twinnies than the puppies." On his concerned look, she added, "Jean-Luc, you know there was no way to keep the puppies hidden from the twins the moment that they had arrived. Better for all concerned for all of them to acquire a little discipline before the party rather than afterward."

Jean-Luc could only nod over this bit of wisdom.

Mildred continued. "Marie took over planning the party for the twins and their friends. She's going to host it at the château. Phoebe Janeway McCall is interfering, of course."

Picard groaned out loud for he had forgotten about Phoebe's visit. And then he paled at the thought of Phoebe running riot. He was also willing to bet that Kathryn had forgotten about it too. "May Château Picardstill be standing after Phoebe Janeway is done with it." For Kathryn, had told Jean-Luc quite a few very biased stories about her sister's antics.

"Amen to that," Mildred pleasantly agreed.

Jean-Luc deduced from Mildred's attitude that Mildred had been able to suppress Phoebe's more adventurous notions.

"But the kids should have a good time, regardless of any shifts in the space-time continuum." Mildred flashed him an evil grin knowing that he had forgotten another minor detail.

"Merde!" He pulled himself together. "Q? Too?"

"Doing his doting farty-godfather routine."

Jean-Luc did not correct Mildred' language for he did not doubt in the slightest that Q was simply being Q and her description would become accurate.

"The real question is whether or not the vineyard will survive for Q does like his wine," Mildred just had to add in order to unsettle Jean-Luc some more.

"Don't remind me," Jean-Luc somewhat glumly responded. "Tell Billy Bob and Anna that I will be there."

"You tell them yourself." She wisely decided not to mention Jean-Luc's slip-of-the-tongue over William's name again, before she glanced off to her left. "They are waiting in the hall to speak to you.

"And they haven't rushed in to interrupt us?" He sounded incredulous over the thought of his children behaving with such restraint.

"Jean-Luc, it is before their birthday, dear. They'll be back to their normal selves in a couple of days."

This he did accept as truth. "And how is everything else?"

"Well the cadets have yet to blow up any major building at the Academy. And Brawny thinks that Ludvig has fallen in love with Gretchen, for the two of them were up most of the night creating the tiers for the birthday cake. Not even I can bear to be around them when they are discussing 'fondant' not to mention calculating the stresses to the individual layers and how to build the damn thing so that the layers are supported with some sort of Belgian rolled crisp columns."

"Something tells me that I might be safer on Mars," Jean-Luc mused.

"You are. And, don't worry about a thing. If necessary, I can bring in Ryllis' granddaughter – she's a pediatric nurse and I like her – if the littlest Chakotay ends up living here for a while."

Jean-Luc was suffering from just enough sleep deprivation, that he did not even think of protesting Mildred's highhandedness.

Knowing she was pressing her luck, Mildred added, "And if necessary, everything will be in readiness if Captain Chakotay comes along as well."

With that, Mildred let in the children, and Jean-Luc was distracted by missing them so much even as he was talking to them.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was only hours later, that Jean-Luc realized that Mildred was expecting Kathryn to bring Chakotay to his home to recuperate. Along with the baby.

He tried to focus on what the EMH was saying as he sat in the Sickbay private waiting room.

And just about everything that Doctor Joe was saying seemed to confirm what Mildred had already conjectured. Kathryn's pregnancy and health was of paramount importance. And Jean-Luc quickly realized that the stress of his wife visiting a hospital or a rehabilitation center day and/or night was not actually a good idea.

"Doctor, once Captain Chakotay is at Starfleet Medical, and on his way to being cured…"

The EMH interrupted the admiral. "I didn't say cured, Admiral Picard."

"What exactly do you mean, Doctor?" Kathryn interrupted the EMH as she finally decided to conserve some energy by sitting down next to her husband.

Speaking in the waiting room office that Captain Asgaard had provided the admirals for privacy, the EMH studied both of the admirals standing before him.

"Captain Chakotay will recover. But it will be a slow, time-consuming process. The primary concern is his brain damage. Because of that, I have decided to keep Captain Chakotay in an induced coma until we arrive on Earth. Even when the brain injury is healed, we still do not know the extent of the damage from that specific injury until we are actually conversing with the man. Add to it his severe spinal cord injury, then it will be a miracle if Captain Chakotay is walking without assistance three months from now."

"What exactly are you saying, Doctor?" Kathryn ordered as she vainly tried to hide the fear that she felt over her doctor's prognosis.

"There are simply too many unknowns in spite of all of the marvels of Starfleet medicine. Twenty years ago, a man with Chakotay's injuries would have been designated as 'permanently handicapped' – and that diagnosis would have been determined before even knowing about the extent of his brain injury."

Knowing how garrulous the EMH could be, Jean-Luc interjected, "In other words, Captain Chakotay will be needing, extensive wide-ranging rehabilitation and supervision."

"There are several superior facilities in San Francisco," the doctor mildly commented.

"Nonsense. Once Captain Chakotay is released from Starfleet Medical, he can come home with us." Jean-Luc knew that he had surprised the EMH with this suggestion – not to mention the stunned look that now was crossing over his wife's face.

Kathryn's jaw dropped slightly.

Jean-Luc continued. "I have already ordered one of my guest cottages to be converted into a rehabilitation facility for the captain. I have asked Admiral Pulaski for her recommendations as well."

The doctor nodded, accepting this solution. "A very good idea. Once Dr. Pulaski is informed of an accurate assessment of Captain Chakotay's condition, I am sure that she will create the correct environment for Chakotay's recovery." He glanced over at Kathryn, noting that there were tears forming, which was not something that he would describe as normal behavior for the lady. "That way, Admiral Janeway can terrorize Chakotay as well as still follow my recommended regime for her having a healthy pregnancy. Not to mention how good your nursery will be for Baby Chakotay when the time comes."

Jean-Luc simply smiled as he watched complete comprehension dawn across Kathryn's face.

"You would do this for me?" she asked of her husband.

"You are my wife. Of course, I would." He spoke quietly, with great assurance.

She leaned into her husband and rested her hand on his chest. "Annika?" she whispered.

"She can stay with us too, whenever she wishes. I had somewhat presumed that she would."

"Oh Jean-Luc, must you try to solve all of the universe's problems?"

He clasped the hand that was touching his chest, and lifted it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her palm. "When it comes to our 'universe', of course I must try." He glanced over at the doctor. "Will you supervise what needs to be done at Picard House when we get back to Earth? You can coordinate with Mildred Krebs."

"Ah, a most efficient lady. I will enjoy working with her."

TBC


	26. Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lwaxana has a thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I screwed up in posting chapter 25. I did it twice. So hopefully, things are now in the order in which they should be.

TV Shows » StarTrek: The Next Generation » DETACHED: JEAN-LUC: HIS STORY  
Author: mabb5 «   
Rated: T - English - Family/Romance - Reviews: 37 - Published: 08-29-16 - Updated: 05-19-17 id:12124776  
DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 26:

Clues

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lwaxana Troi-Wiley had a thought. One moment she was sitting on her couch, resting against a myriad of comfortable, Bringolian goose down filled pillows, finishing off the dark liquor in her goblet, when an unbidden suspicion filled her brain. On the off chance that she might be wrong, which was highly unlikely of course, she poured herself another Saurian brandy, sipped it slowly, finished it, put the snifter down, and then decided that yes, she had indeed thought of something of importance.

She couldn't go rushing in to the cabin where her daughter and son-in-law resided without first checking out her thought, though. Lwaxana was no fool. The next thing that she thought of was Mr. Data.

"Computer, where is Mr. Data? Is he on duty?"

"Mr. Data is in his quarters," the computer dutifully answered.

"What does an android need with his own quarters?" Lwaxana mumbled to herself, as she shoved herself upwards and walked out of her quarters, without any assistance from a somewhat surprised Mr. Homm as she waved him off.

A few decks later, the Ambassadress from Betazed was repeatedly punching Mr. Data's door chime.

When the door slid open, the lady in the purple lounging outfit shoved Mr. Data backwards into his quarters, proudly announcing, "Mr. Data! I have had a thought!"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Ten hours later, for Lwaxana did need her beauty sleep, the android requested that Captain Riker hold a briefing for all senior staff involved in the search for Beverly Picard.

When all were assembled, including Mr. Homm who did bring donuts, Mr. Data stood before everyone, ready to show his comrades what he had discovered on a display screen.

But it was Lwaxana who spoke first, rising from her chair with an imperial air about her. "I have had a thought!" she announced to one and all.

Deanna sensed it first. In spite of her mother's dramatic flourishes and endless self-centered nonsense games, there were times when her mother's true self emerged – she was an extremely intelligent woman capable of brilliant intuitive albeit eccentric thought processes. This time, whatever it was that she was doing, had a deadly serious focus to its purpose. It was the dynamic, capable ambassadress that was about to speak and not the pampered, indulged wife of Starfleet's Fleet Admiral.

Deanna instinctively placed her hand on her husband's left forearm, restraining his impatience over her mother's perceived 'nonsense'. She kept him from rising in his chair.

Lwaxana continued speaking as if she didn't sense the negative emotions from several people seated around the conference table. Out of a long habit, she'd always been able to blithely ignore negative thoughts about her person, which was somewhat necessary for her emotional survival.

"I had a thought, and asked dear Mr. Data to investigate." She regally nodded toward the android, and then sat down in her chair with just only a little bit of dramatic embellishment concerning waving hands and the fluttering of sleeves.

Knowing now it was time for him to speak, Data explained, "Ambassador Troi came to me last night with a simple question." He waited. And Commander Data was not disappointed.

"And that was, Data?" Wesley wearily asked for he was still recovering from the Klingon exercise routine that he'd done the night before.

Data continued, "What if Dr. Beverly Howard Crusher Picard was not the reason as to why the K'Tosh disappeared?"

"Huh?" choked Geordi, startled by such a dramatic shift in possibilities.

Data explained, "It has been the assumption amongst ourselves as well as most Starfleet investigators, that the K'Tosh was targeted because Admiral Beverly Picard was a passenger on board. What if that were not the case?" Data paused to see if all were watching him. They were. He touched the wall screen. Maps and myriad charts were now available. He pointed. "I have discovered that during the past five years, eleven small starships have vanished without a trace in the same sector of space as the K'Tosh."

"I already knew that," Captain Riker stated. "Starfleet investigated closely any and every disappearance to see if there was any common link. Some had considered the possibility of sub-space anomalies or temporal rifts as the logical explanations as to why those ships went missing."

"Those likelihoods have been thoroughly investigated, and the two conclusions were decided to be the simple, most probable explanations," Data agreed. "What I have discovered, thanks to Mrs. Troi-Wiley's thought that Beverly Picard was not the nexus, is that there is another commonality."

"What?" Wesley tersely asked.

"Telepathic abilities." Data knew enough about human emotions to know that his words had stunned his fellow officers considering the expressions on their faces.

"My Mother was not a real telepath," Wesley protested.

"Though Admiral Beverly Picard did have some telepathic experiences, you are correct. However, you are overlooking something else of importance, Wesley." The android spoke gently, as if he knew how much pain his friend might be experiencing.

"What, Mr. Data?" This time it was Deanna who softly asked the question.

"That the majority of the crew and passengers on every missing ship were from telepathic races. Seven out of the eleven ships were Vulcan science vessels with a predominately Vulcan crew." Data glanced over at his captain to see if he should continue. Riker leaned forward as if he were listening intently, and nodded slightly. "The remaining four ships all had Betazoid registration with a majority of Betazed crew on board."

The Klingon considered his friend's deduction. "The p'taQ! were targeting telepaths," Worf announced, as he began to wonder how the Starfleet investigators could have missed something as obvious as this. (Not to mention himself.)

"Therefore, it is highly improbable that an anomaly or a temporal rift was responsible for all the disappearances," Data firmly stated. The android paused for a moment. "Actually, it is statistically impossible, after I analyzed all of the pertinent factors."

"Why?" Riker commanded. "What possible gain could there be in kidnapping telepaths?"

And then the speculation began.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The glint of metal off the slender fingers that had touched her shoulder was a sufficient enough clue for Kathryn Janeway to identify the lady standing behind her chair. She released Chakotay's hand that she had been firmly pressing, and stood, turning to face the man's wife.

"Chakotay's condition has not changed, Annika. He is still in a coma."

The former Borg nodded. "The doctor did so inform me," she stiffly stated. "You were saying something to him?"

"All the doctors seemed to think that conversation could help stimulate his brain functions."

Annika glanced at the monitors. "I have detected no such change in my husband's brain scans."

Briefly, Kathryn closed her eyes, as she willed herself not to over-react to Annika's cool tones, and stiff demeanor.

"I have always found that doing something might help the patient if the doctors recommend it – or at least help those who must sit and wait." She tried not to convey her disapproval over Annika's words.

Annika seemed to sense that Kathryn Janeway was disturbed by her words and her attitude.

"It was not my intent to criticize. It is just…," she reached down and clasped her husband's hand, "It is just that it all seems so futile…" There was a slight crack to her voice as she finally stared down at her husband.

And Kathryn responded by reaching out and hugging her best friend's wife. "You cannot give up hope, Seven. We're going to Starfleet Medical in two hours. Things will be different there. I promise."

Annika raised her eyes to study the gaze of her former captain. "Yes. That is a possibility." And for a brief second there seemed to be a touch of hope as well as sorrow in the woman's expression. She stepped away from Kathryn and Chakotay, to pick up a small side chair that had been at the foot of the medical bed. She placed it next to Kathryn's arm chair, and then sat down.

"I saw Kol in stasis a few minutes ago. The doctor has reassured me…" This time there was a definite break to her voice as she was speaking. "He will be fine…"

"Our EMH wouldn't say that if it weren't so," Kathryn quietly reassured her.

Seven's lip trembled just a little bit, but it was enough of a clue to tell Kathryn how the drone who had been the Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01 and who had fought for her humanity to become as a daughter to her, was distressed. Kathryn simply leaned over and touched her shoulder. For a moment, both women comforted each other.

"Magnus Kolopak," the former drone whispered. "Chakotay thought that our son's name should honor both of our fathers." She weakly smiled. "I of course, argued that 'Magnus' was not the name that I wished to call our son." She looked away for a second. "I seem to remember my mother calling my father 'Maggie'. And he did not seem to care for that abbreviation of his name."

"Your mother was teasing your father."

"Yes. Lieutenant Commander Paris once suggested that to me, years ago."

"Trust me, Tom was right." She squeezed Annika's arm. "So, you're going to call your son 'Kol'?"

"That would please Chakotay…" She nodded as if she had just decided something, before she added, "And me."

For a while, both ladies sat in silence, watching the man that they both loved in their own ways, breathe.

And then Annika started to softly sing. "The water is wide, and I can't get o'er…"

Kathryn recognized the melody as an English folk song that the doctor had once sung during a talent night long ago... As she listened to Annika sing to her husband, she had to brush a few tears away from cheeks.

When she finished singing, Annika still gazed at her husband, before she whispered, "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I meant to hurt you." She did not look at the admiral. "And I do not understand why I was so vitriolic. I am ashamed about what I said…"

"Oh, Annika. Believe me, I do understand. And I do forgive you." She stood and leaned down to hug the now former Seven of Nine. For this woman was truly embracing her humanity.

"I have been told that I need to seek counseling."

Kathryn Janeway couldn't disagree with this.

"Once this crisis is settled, please do so, Annika…" Kathryn gave her a little smile. "I happen to know a very good civilian counselor…"

"Our doctor has given me several recommendations and I have investigated other alternatives." Annika stood and reached down to lightly caress her husband's face, touching him as if she were memorizing his face for a moment. Then she straightened up, back into her familiar Borg posture. "I must prepare for my departure." She paused for a moment, seemingly wrapping her Borg discipline about her like a protective armor, but then she reached over and hugged Kathryn Janeway almost in desperation. "Take care of yourself…and them…" With that she pivoted and walked out of the sickbay.

Standing in the doorway, Jean-Luc had observed the scene, and then stepped forward. He simply hugged his wife and then released her. "I am glad…" He didn't have to explain.

She nodded into his shoulder, needing for a moment such supportive, human contact. Then she became Admiral Janeway again. "It's almost time to leave. I have to go back to our rooms just for a minute…"

"Of course," he agreed. Turning he motioned for Lieutenant Baytart to accompany the admiral back to their guest quarters. "I'll stay with Chakotay until we're all ready to be beamed over to the Nightingale."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I suspect that the Ferengi are involved," Lwaxana shuddered, as the discussion was still going strong about the reason behind the disappearance of telepath's ships.

"Then there must be a profit motive," Worf observed.

"What kind of profit could there be?" Geordi argued.

For the first time, a new voice was heard. "There is a possibility…," Dr. Selar sounded hesitant, unlike the forthright, outspoken physician that she usually was.

Captain Riker stood, silencing all conversation. "What kind of possibility, Dr. Selar?" Next to him, he heard his wife gasp as if she sensed something distressing.

"It is only a rumor, Captain, amongst certain of my colleagues. And I have learned of nothing substantive to corroborate it," the CMO calmly stated.

"What rumor?" Data inquired.

"It has been said that the Romulans have developed some sort of drug that can induce pon farr," the doctor stated. For a change, this Vulcaness who on occasion displayed a very dry sense of humor, was completely, icily unemotional.

"Every seven years?" a somewhat confused captain asked even as he noted the new distressed expression on his mother-in-law's face.

"No, Captain Riker. On demand. Every day, week…," Dr. Selar explained. "Repeated exposure to such a drug, would surely result in death to a Vulcan. The Vulcan physiology was never meant to frequently survive the violent stresses such as those that occur during pon farr. There have even been rare instances when a healthy Vulcan in normal pon farr does not survive the damage to the body that the pon farr can induce. The fatality rate of exposure to more recurrent, rapidly induced pon farrs would be astronomical."

No one around the table wanted to believe that such an evil could exist. Or that any race would seek to profit from such an abomination.

TBC


	27. Silken Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unknown assailant tries again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read chapters 26 & 27 before 5/18/2017, I had accidentally posted chapter 25 twice. I have corrected this problem. Chapter 26 is a new chapter now. Everything is in sequence. So go back and read 26 which is now correct. Thanks for reading.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 27:

Silken Threads

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was the sudden flash of light captured by Jean-Luc's peripheral vision that caught his attention. Even as he turned his head to look in the direction of the light, he felt the rumbling begin. It took only a second for Jean-Luc to realize that the walkway upon which he was standing, was beginning to tremble. He jumped forward to land on the solid base that was attached to the suspension walkway that connected the various pods at Burroughs station together. The entire structure was encased in transparent aluminum which offered stunning views of Mars, Utopia Planetia, the ship yard or the universe. Which also made it easy to see who was where on the walkways and platforms.

Even as he rolled onto his back, fear squeezed his heart. "Kathryn!"

He quickly stood and then whirled about to see where his wife was, for she had been at the opposite end of the walkway, heading toward the transporter station. Even as the security guard who was nearest Jean-Luc's position, bapped his comm badge and then yelled that it was a zero grav emergency, Jean-Luc stopped breathing as his eyes searched the crowd on the walkway to find his wife.

The walkway was beginning to roil now, with little ripples at first. Two of the suspension pylons shifted then gave way with a loud screech, adding to Jean-Luc's dread. After what seemed like eons, Jean-Luc finally caught sight of his wife who was almost at the far end of the walkway, clinging to a railing. But it was her security guard, Lieutenant Baytart and his actions, that Jean-Luc then noticed. For suddenly this man wrapped his arms about Kathryn's waist and lifted her away. They were now floating up above the shimmering walkway.

Jean-Luc suddenly found himself able to breathe again as he watched Baytart and his anti-grav belt, shove Kathryn safely over onto a solid platform. After Kathryn was secure, Baytart went back to the group closest to him and grabbed two children, bringing them to safety as well.

A moment later, the section around the walkway was in zero grav, and the other people that had been in danger from falling off the walkway, were now floating about, trying to grab onto something to drag themselves toward the anchored end safe areas.

Then his eyes searched upwards, as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. He could see that the suspension supports had been cracked or severed in several places. Whatever type of phaser had been used, whomsoever or whatever had fired it, knew the precise points to hit on the suspension beams to place the walkway in danger of collapse.

By now, the local space patrol was on the scene, using their flight packs to rescue the few individuals that were still floating about.

Jean-Luc returned to looking at the suspension supports, as he watched one of them creak then break away from its mooring. The walkway was now tilted at a sever angle, in danger of falling below when the gravity was turned back on in this section.

He was now deeply concerned, not to mention worried about the safety of his loved ones.

Clearly this was no accident.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Naturally, after all of the patients from the shuttlecraft accident were transported aboard and then stabilized, the admirals called a meeting. Jean-Luc had thought to order Commander Torres to stay behind and investigate the shuttlecraft crash and the walkway attack, but it was Kathryn who quietly told her husband that B'Elanna needed to stay with them. And that Mars station security and engineers would send their engineer everything that they had discovered.

Captain Beckett of the Nightingale offered her senior officer conference room to the admirals for their meeting including a buffet lunch. Considering how accommodating the captain was, Jean-Luc could only guess that the hand of Catherine Pulaski had something to do with their reception. What he didn't realize was how impressed this ship's officers were with the Voyagers. Just to be around the seemingly mythic captain and her crew was considered to be an honor.

Before Admiral Picard started the meeting, he pulled Lieutenant Baytart aside. "Lieutenant, I just wanted to thank you for what you did today. I am in your debt."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for Admiral Janeway," the man readily confessed.

"Why did you think to wear the anti-grav belt?"

Baytart smiled. "Mike Ayala thought that it might be a wise precaution considering the structural design of the Mars station. Not to mention the possibilities…"

"Then I owe Mr. Ayala a debt of gratitude too," Picard whispered; he motioned the lieutenant toward one of the empty chairs about the elongated conference table.

"Thoughts," was all Jean-Luc Picard stated as he sat himself down next to his wife. They were still wearing civilian clothing, but no one doubted who was in command here.

"I yield to the senior admiral," Kathryn Janeway calmly stated as she subtlety strove to make a point to her husband about his high hatted behavior in assuming that he was in charge of everything.

Jean-Luc hid his smile as he got his wife's message. Then he broadened his expression as he turned to the lady sitting next to him, and casually remarked, "I am letting you sit in, my dear, even though you are now on extended leave from Starfleet."

The look Kathryn gave him promised her revenge. Jean-Luc looked pleased at that prospect. And then he became nothing but the consummate professional.

"It appears that the plot against Kathryn and myself is escalating," the admiral firmly stated.

B'Elanna shook her head. "Mars base is claiming that one of its robotic maintenance welders malfunctioned."

Kathryn just sent her favorite engineer an incredulous look. "You believe this?"

B'Elanna snorted. "I don't believe in coincidences. Especially one like this. The robotic welder may have malfunctioned. But my bet would be that it was programmed to malfunction." She touched a padd and her data appeared on the wall screen. "However, I am not sure that the two incidents are connected. All of the evidence so far, on the shuttle craft accident indicates that it was just that – an accident. Pilot error." She pushed another button. "The autopsy on the pilot found nothing suspicious other than the fact that the man had been exhausted. Our own EMH did the autopsy, so I have to believe that it is correct."

Tom Paris leaned back in his chair. "Aren't we jumping the gun, here?"

"Meaning?" Kathryn tersely asked.

"What if the two events are not related? Or, what if the two incidents are truly accidents? Or, are two acts of endangerment caused by two different groups? Or an accident on one hand and a conspiracy surrounding the other." He shook his head. "We can't just assume…" Tom seemed surprised by his own thoughts.

"Two different groups, working in tandem, or even at cross-purposes," B'Elanna mused. "One group taking advantage of the other's action." She looked over at Kathryn. "Admiral Janeway, you were here, under perceptibly less protection than on Earth…"

"That would mean that whoever they are, are keeping very close track of my movements." Kathryn glanced over at her husband. "Our movements."

"But is there any real evidence that harm was intended?" Tom suggested.

"What?" Picard sternly questioned.

"If someone really wanted to injure or kill either of you, why such an elaborate set-up? Wouldn't it just have been simpler to shoot you? Poison you? Vaporize you? Etc.," Tom argued.

Kathryn slowly nodded in agreement with Tom. "Surely, whoever plotted this – if it is a conspiracy – would have known about the fail safes of the Mars facility. It would have been logical to assume that the gravity would have been cut once an incident occurred."

"So what if they weren't trying to kill you!" B'Elanna complained. "They were still trying to harm you, Kathryn! Or terrorize you!"

"Or Jean-Luc," Kathryn not-so-subtly, reminded, "For we both were on the walkway at the same time."

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the puzzle.

"None of this makes any sense," Jean-Luc finally observed.

"Madmen rarely do," Kathryn tartly observed as she recalled too many incidences from the Delta Quadrant.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that a Q was behind all of this," Jean-Luc quietly stated.

"I am not!" a disembodied voice boomed, echoing about the room.

"I know that," Jean-Luc wearily sighed. "I didn't mean you, Q."

Q materialized, standing in the middle of the Tanugan maple conference table, wearing his favorite old style Starfleet uniform but with stripes on his sleeves, and fleet admiral bars on his red collar instead of four pips. "Another Q?" He nodded, crossed his legs, and hovered above the table surface even as he stroked his chin, acting like he was considering the situation. "I suppose that is not an impossibility." He glanced over at his favorite female bi-pedal being. "Mrs. Q and I have been having a few little tiffs lately. But she finally does believe that you're not my lover. The little beauty in your belly is strictly Jean-Luc's get." He plopped down onto the center of the table. "But the idea of other Qs meddling? Well, I hadn't really considered that possibility, but I suppose it could be true." He floated upward, suddenly dressed in a grey plaid great coat and wearing a fedora. "I shall investigate!" He snapped his fingers and vanished.

"You just had to mention Q's name," Kathryn grumbled.

"I'd asked him to keep an eye on you," Jean-Luc too-calmly responded.

She sent him a minor death glare. "Didn't do much good, did it?"

"Admirals, I just took a quick look at the information that the station just sent to me," B'Elanna interrupted, still studying the padd before her. "The robotic welding system shows no sign of its programming having been disrupted. I'm going to have to go back there and examine the system myself." The disgust and exasperation was clearly evident in her voice and expression.

"Focus on the shuttle craft accident," Kathryn ordered. "That's where the death and injuries occurred." She softly smiled. "Once we are both sure that Chakotay will be all right, then you can go back to Mars Station if necessary."

There was a soft chime from Jean-Luc's padd. He glanced down and read it. "We will be landing at Starfleet Medical in ten minutes." He thought for a few moments. "Shall we meet tomorrow morning at Picard House? 0900 hours?"

"The Academy?" Kathryn quietly asked her husband.

"I won't be reporting until the afternoon, after we have our discussions and are informed of Chakotay's status."

"The twins?" she gently reminded him.

"Their birthday…" He looked at everyone still assembled. And with a louder voiced, queried, "0900 at Picard House?" Everyone nodded. "Dismissed."

After everyone concerned had left other than Kathryn, he leaned back into his arm chair, and wearily closed his eyes. "Unless Mrs. Krebs has some sort of 'the universe is about to end' crisis, I will take the day off." He rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I should call Will and see if he can loan us Mr. Data. Data's analyzing skills could make short work through a lot of this mess." On Kathryn's questioning look, "I taught Mr. Data how to be a detective. He seems to enjoy such activities."

"Sleep on that thought. And if you still feel the same about Mr. Data after the meeting in the morning, then call Will."

Jean-Luc smiled. "You're still thinking like a starship captain, my dear, not wanting to lose a senior officer. Though you do have a point. I wouldn't want Will to think that I am raiding his staff every time I have a crisis that I cannot handle by myself." He leaned over and clasped Kathryn's hand. "I wouldn't wish to be diminished in Will's eyes."

Kathryn laughed. "I doubt that Will would think less of you if you borrowed Mr. Data for a while. Though I would imagine that Will would eventually get even with you for doing it. Captain's honor, as it were."

"I will use every resource that I have in order to keep you and our family safe from harm, Kathryn." Jean-Luc gently stroked her hand as he noticed how pale she was looking. "How are you feeling Kathryn? You're not too weary, are you?" He knew better than to order her to return to Picard House before finding out how Chakotay was.

"Jean-Luc, once Chakotay and the baby are settled, I will leave them to Annika. We'll go home and get some rest." She yawned. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day…"

Jean-Luc was somewhat surprised and then pleased that Kathryn was beginning to be able predict his actions so well. They were becoming more in tune with each other.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was B'Elanna who stayed up most of the night, after the EMH announced that Chakotay and his son were secure at Starfleet Medical. She was analyzing ever piece of data that she had from both the shuttle craft accident and the walkway collapse.

She had found nothing. At least, no smoking gun, as it were.

She had her suspicions, but there was nothing tangible to report.

Even as she hunched over her work desk in her bedroom, Tom silently walked over to her and placed a cup of Vulcan spice tea next to her padd.

"Miral asleep?"

"Our daughter wanted to play more than eat before she nodded off," Tom chuckled.

"She gets that from you," B'Elanna argued, even as she still kept her eyes glued to her padd.

"B'Elanna, you won't be doing Chakotay any good if you show up at the meeting in the morning, exhausted from lack of sleep. After all, that's what apparently killed the shuttle craft pilot."

B'Elanna raised her eyes from her padd. "You're right. The pilot… was exhausted." She leaned back into her chair and looked up at her husband with a questioning gaze. "Now, I wonder what that pilot was doing before the flight to get him into such a state of exhaustion?"

Tom picked up on B'Elanna's line of thought. "You're on to something, babe. Esposito was a professional pilot. He would have known better than to pilot a ship in an exhausted condition…" Tom squeezed B'Elanna's shoulder. "Come to bed."

"No. I am going to have to check on Esposito's activities…"

"No, I will investigate," Tom firmly argued. "In the morning, I'll check the official logs as well as call a few of my old buddies. That way, I might actually get some real 'facts' about Esposito's activities – including all the ones that are not on the official record."

B'Elanna stood and clasped her husband's hand. "Let's go to bed…" The smile she bestowed upon her husband suggested something more than sleep. She needed to unwind before sleep would claim her.

And Tom was happy to comply.

Unfortunately, the meeting in the morning had to be postponed due to a slight change of plans thanks to the EMH. The meeting would take place after Captain Chakotay was awake.

TBC


	28. Sticky Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Data is curious.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 28:

Sticky Threads

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mr. Data was curious. He found the way that the Ferengi official was behaving to be curious above and beyond 'normal' illogical Ferengi behavior that Mr. Data had witnessed over his years of observing Ferengis. A nanosecond check of his internal data base on Ferengi psychological behavior, mores and business etiquette further convinced Mr. Data that there was something quite odd about the way that this officious official was responding to Data's straightforward request.

The Ferengi prison warden by the name of Grus, seemed agitated. Little droplets of moisture were forming on the exterior slopes of his lobes. He was fidgeting with the heavy platinum chain of office with large (though of poor quality) gem stones resting against his puce and tangerine robes with some sort of geometrical latinum thread embroidered trim. In short, by Mr. Data's estimation this Ferengi official seemed nervous. Very nervous. And Mr. Data was curious as to why.

For all Mr. Data wanted to do was simply to meet with DaiMon Bok, in his, from what Mr. Data had observed so far, was an extremely luxurious and comfortable prison confinement. Mr. Data doubted that there was any Federation prison anywhere, that provided 'oomax' and other personal services with very nubile, scantily garbed female 'guards' from several races including Risa and Orion.

"I simply cannot allow DaiMon Bok to be so unnecessarily disturbed without the proper authorization from the Grand Nagus!" the Grus huffed and puffed. "Not permitted! Not permitted!" He huffed and puffed again. For this Ferengi official was guarding the gateway to the most private of prisons that latinum could buy on Ferenginar. The official stood behind his gilded desk which was in an ultra-luxurious office of his very own. With apparently, a private entrance to the wing where DaiMon Bok was located.

The room was decorated in a style that even Mr. Data would describe as 'unaesthetic' if the android were ordered to give voice to an opinion.

Deducing that he might need assistance with this obdurate official, Data tapped his comm badge. "Commander Data to Commander Crusher."

"Yes, Data?" the still too-youthful sounding commander responded for he was on board the Enterprise in Data's lab, researching the information that Quark had just provided from one of his distant cousins after a little visit from the ambassadress who could be surprisingly helpful when it mattered. This version was providing more information about the holovid.

"Commander, please beam down to my location. I need your assistance."

Two minutes later, Wesley materialized next to his friend.

Nodding benignly at the Ferengi official, Mr. Data politely made the introduction. "Most Important Commandant Grus, this is Commander Wesley Crusher. Commander Crusher is the most honored son to Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. Commander Crusher is also Admiral Picard's supreme official representative. According to Ferengi law and the order of your Supreme Magistrate, Commander Crusher is entitled to inspect the confinement of the Ferengi DaiMon who attempted to kill Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, not once but twice. For these crimes, the Ferengi Council awarded Admiral Jean-Luc Picard a vast amount of latinum and properties once belonging to DaiMon Bok as compensation for DaiMon Bok's villainy." Data nodded slightly in the direction of Wesley. Then he leaned forward and whispered somewhat conspiratorially, "And to investigate the possibility that DaiMon Bok has more latinum than has been previously reported and confiscated. Which by decree of the Grand Nagus, if more does exist, is now Admiral Jean-Luc Picard's property."

"Admiral Picard was supposed to have received all of DaiMon Bok's latinum. The veracity of that report is now being questioned. Any assistance in discovering previously unreported funds will naturally be suitably rewarded." Wesley had learned quite a bit when he had lived on board the Enterprise including some skill in handling difficult aliens.

Wesley watched as a topless nymph sauntered past them carrying a tall ewer of wine, toward the DaiMon's cell block private entrance. "I wonder how this disgraced DaiMon is able to afford such amenities as oomax women." He raised his hand and stopped the servant. Lifting the lid on the silver washed ewer, Wesley sniffed. After becoming Jean-Luc Picard's step-son, he had acquired a modicum of knowledge when it came to wine. Wesley politely smiled at Grus. "This wine smells like Ktarian burgundy." He sniffed again. "And it is very expensive." He waved the girl away.

The Ferengi was visibly shaking as he glanced down at his padd. "I know nothing of this 'Admiral Jean-Luc Picard'. According to my records, the bankruptor of DaiMon Bok was a 'Captain' Jean-Luc Picard," he angrily sputtered.

"Your records need updating," Data respectfully observed.

"Well, until they are updated, you have no authority here to inspect anything or anyone," the Ferengi triumphantly announced, seizing upon this technicality as if it were a life line. "The privacy of my guests will be respected!"

Wesley noted the way that this warden referred to his prisoners, though said nothing about it, for the moment.

Data nodded again, seemingly accepting this statement, and then he pulled out a padd of his own. "However, the Grand Nagus and the Ferengi Council of Elder Businessmen gave me the authorization when the settlement was conferred upon Jean-Luc Picard because of DaiMon Bok's attempts to drive insane Admiral Picard and then to viciously harm a member of the Picard family." Data drew himself perfectly upright to tower over the official. "The Grand Nagus wants me to handle all of the business transactions concerning DaiMon Bok. And based upon what I have seen so far, there is evidence of 'irregularities'." Data's voice seemed to mimic a certain captain's manner of speaking when he was at his most pompous. "I am officially Jean-Luc Picard's banker. You might infer that I am also his man of business and primary accountant too." He handed the padd to the Ferengi official who had suddenly stopped sputtering, freezing his agitated movements, as with wide eyes he read this authorization that had been personally signed and sealed by the Grand Nagus himself. And confirmed again by the Grand Nagus only a few hours earlier. His ear lobes quivered.

"I…," the Ferengi tried to say. Frankly, this Ferengi didn't know what to say.

"I have no desire to conduct an extensive forensic audit…" Data watched as the Ferengi flinched, blanched and then trembled at the words by the use of the dreaded Ferengi curse words of 'forensic' and 'audit'.

"No, it would be a great deal of work," the Ferengi squeaked as images of what the Grand Nagus could do to his insignificant official's own personal fortune if the Grand Nagus became upset with someone who was only an underling in the grand scheme of things.

"If you were more cooperative, such an audit could be avoided," Wesley cautioned as he watched this official squirm, his long purple sleeves fluttering from his tremors and moans. "The Grand Nagus would be grateful for your cooperation."

"Yes, yes, of course," the no longer quite officious official quickly agreed.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Now, Mr. Data was more than curious. Or puzzled. After a brief meeting with the prisoner, more questions were becoming apparent. There was an urgency to his quest for the truth after his meeting with DaiMon Bok who had refused to answer any questions unless the Grand Nagus personally ordered him to do so. Still, Data and Wesley had surreptitiously learned a few things from all that this meeting had disclosed. It was time that he should immediately return to the ship with Wesley. He now possibly had the evidence to confirm a probable theory.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I love Ferengis!" Lwaxana Troy-Wiley announced to everyone within ear shot.

Deanna accepted her mother's statement in the spirit with which it was intended.

Her son-in-law just grinned, as he ignored whatever it was that his mother-in-law had just said. He'd learned how to edit out certain blathering statements from Lwaxana ever since his marriage to her daughter.

Worf rolled his eyes but said nothing. For he too, knew Lwaxana and her over-the-top dramatic performances, too well.

Wesley just inwardly shuddered, for he knew what such statements from the Lady Ambassador were really worth. He'd heard such statements too often over the past few years in the service of her husband.

Geordi just accepted the lady's words at face value. He'd given up questioning or even trying to understand Lwaxana's taste in the males of the Alpha Quadrant.

Dr. Ogawa just assumed that the lady was exaggerating again.

Dr. Selar accepted the fact that hearing a truthful, rational statement from Lwaxana Troi-Wiley was predictably quite unlikely.

As Mr. Data moved to his proper place around the conference table, he added to the lady's statement, "And they love you too?"

Lwaxana glared at the android. "A few of them wished to do so, in the past," she sniffed.

"Shall I remind everyone of those incidents?" Mr. Data politely asked as he seated himself.

Captain Riker decided that it was time to intervene before Lwaxana cared to narrate an extensive list of almost lovers, or Mr. Data started to recite an oral history of all of Lwaxana's encounters with love-struck Ferengis. He stared at Mr. Data. "Commander, you called this meeting. What have you discovered?"

Data glanced over at Wesley who nodded slightly. Then Mr. Data stood. "Commander Worf had suggested to me that there was a possibility that Admiral Picard's old nemesis, DaiMon Bok might be involved in some way with the disappearance of Admiral Beverly Crusher-Picard. – the telepathic abduction theory notwithstanding."

"And?" Riker quickly asked.

Worf leaned forward toward the table, as if straining to hear what Data was going to say.

Data nodded. "Commander Worf was correct in his suspicions, that DaiMon Bok might be a suspect."

"What?" Geordi raised his head away from his padd.

Wesley grimly stared as Data motioned for him to speak. "Mr. Data thought that it would be prudent just to double-check that DaiMon Bok was in prison where the Ferengi officials said he was supposed to be."

"He was not, Captain Riker," Data added.

"Where is Bok?" several people said at once.

"There is a fake Bok in the Ferengi prison. A fake Bok who is living a life of luxury, and presumably being paid a great deal of latinum to assume DaiMon Bok's prison sentence and identity," Wesley explained.

"I analyzed the Ferengi's DNA." Data walked over to the display screen on the wall. "Preliminary tricorder scans do indicate that the imprisoned Ferengi is DaiMon Bok. That should have been sufficient proof as to the Ferengi's identity."

"But Data remembered how easily Bok manipulated Picard's fake son's DNA," Wesley quickly added.

"So, I decided to get a physical sample of the prisoner Ferengi's DNA when Wesley and I visited him. I retrieved a discarded ear scratcher, while Wesley was trying to question the false Bok." Data touched the screen and several images of DNA patterns appeared. "The upper example is the original Bok's DNA. The lower one belongs to the man who was in prison."

Dr. Selar stepped over to the screen to more closely examine the patterns. "Impressive manipulation and suppression of the genetic material. The two are almost identical. It would have fooled every cursory examination." She nodded, and then smiled over at Data. "But not the scrutiny by Mr. Data and Commander Crusher."

"My God," Riker whispered to himself as the implications began to register.

"How long has DaiMon Bok been free?" Deanna quietly asked.

"Odds are that Bok never actually made it to prison," Lwaxana chirped up. "The gossip amongst certain ambassadors – not that I participate in such activities though I do like to listen, mind you… Anyway, it's been said for years, that if a guilty Ferengi was wealthy enough, he could always buy and bribe his way out of serving his sentence."

"You mean, Bok was never in prison in spite of what he did to Captain Picard?" Wesley angrily asked. "And you never told Jean-Luc of this possibility, Lwaxana?"

Lwaxana reached over and patted Wesley's hand. "Wesley, would it really have done Jean-Luc any good to hear of such a possibility? Especially after Beverly died? What would it have mattered?"

"It would have given us a place to look! A purpose!" Worf exploded, trying to control his anger and what he could only consider to be Lwaxana's irresponsibility. "We could have defended against further attacks!"

"Most Ferengi who bribe their way out of prison, disappear for good, Mr. Woof. They go into the hinterlands of the stars, beyond Ferengi or Federation boundaries in order not to be noticed!" Lwaxana protested.

"That makes sense," Wesley quietly agreed with the lady from Betazed.

"What?"

Wesley had surprised her.

"Bok took his money and went somewhere that the Federation could not find him. He must have changed his name. Obviously, he made quite a lot of latinum since then, since almost a decade after his 'imprisonment' he still could afford to bribe the Ferengi prison officials and maintain the charade." Wesley glanced at Data as if for confirmation. "There has to be more than one official or government representative involved in order to successfully sustain such a deceit for so many years."

"True," Data agreed. "And we have yet to determine why Bok deemed it necessary to maintain the charade with those officials covering for him."

"But those officials might be able to provide us with some clues," Deanna suggested, "if we can corral and hogtie them varmints all up."

Will Riker inwardly grinned at his wife's choice of phrase. Deanna could be as melodramatic as her mother.

"It is possible that the conspiring Ferengi might suspect something but Wesley and I were careful. They may yet not be suspicious, since no one else has discovered their deceit." Data mentioned. "And we have not discussed the charade with anyone other than the people in this room."

"We could use that to our advantage," Geordi mused.

"I will investigate all of the possibilities." Data returned to his chair with an air of finality and determination.

"Follow the latinum," Lwaxana suggested.

"That is a logical recommendation. For the continued payments had to have come from some location." Data made a mental note as he rearranged his mental 'to do' list.

"You have the authorization to do whatever is necessary, from the Federation Council, Mr. Data," Lwaxana airily announced. "Freely arrest, torture, whatever - at will." Lwaxana blithely waved a hand. "Winnie said to do whatever it takes to find Beverly, and he means it, too." She stared at Will and then smiled the kind of smile with which Will Riker was far too familiar. Lwaxana was always at her best, when she was being outrageous. "I'll deal with the Grand Nagus and the Ferengi government if they accuse the Federation in interfering with internal Ferengi affairs. I can bend the Prime Directive better than Jean-Luc ever could. I know how to handle all those quivering big lobed p'tach!"

Worf grunted his approval.

Will looked over at Wesley, Geordi and the doctors. "Continue to analyze everything from the retrieved holovids. We'll attack from two directions, now."

Even as the others around the senior officer's conference table stood to leave the meeting, Lwaxana stayed planted right where she was. "Will, I need to know everything about the second incident with Bok. And I also need to see all the Ferengi names and government titles that were involved in anything concerning Picard. At least one person on that list, and probably a lot more names, if the Ferengi's run true to form, are involved with Bok's escape and the cover-up. They are so predictable." She sniffed. "I can investigate through the diplomatic back alleys to see which names are the ones most likely to accept bribes, etc."

"Lwaxana, I will grant you access to all of that information including the classified material." Will stood and stretched, then simply said, "Mr. Data, I'd like to go along with you when you interrogate the fake DaiMon Bok."

"I shall come as well," Worf gruffly announced, as he looked toward his commanding officer for approval. Will thought that Worf's presence would be a welcome addition to the grilling.

"That's a good idea, Woofie," Lwaxana cheerily agreed. "Klingon methods of interrogation do come in handy now and then. They are much better than Jean-Luc's talk, talk and more talk method of boring prisoners until they scream out the answers, begging for relief from his talking."

Worf said nothing, for he did not exactly disagree with Lwaxana's assessment of Jean-Luc Picard.

TBC


	29. Domestic Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn has to come to terms with the fact that she is not alone any more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a variety of problems, I have been having difficulties in posting on AO3 as compared to fanficdotnet. So, I hope to get caught up with the number of chapters here in comparison to ffn.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 29:

Domestic Issues

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Doctor Joseph commed me," he quietly stated, as if he were testing the waters to see what kind of reaction he was going to get from his wife.

"Yes, my EMH called me as well." She revealed nothing.

"The doctor said that he told you last night that he would not be attempting to awaken Captain Chakotay until tomorrow morning."

"Jean-Luc, I have to be there. I've always been there when Chakotay was in sickbay."

He stifled his sigh as he took a step closer to his wife who was standing unnaturally still by the foot of their bed. "I know, Kathryn. I know. And I really do understand. But…"

"But, it's the twins' birthday party." She shook her head. "I really can't…a party… No."

He reached over as if to touch her shoulder, and then he hesitated. She stepped away from him, still refusing to look at him directly or accept any comfort from him.

She shook her head again, then argued, almost as if she were trying to convince herself as well as her husband, "I have always been by his side when he was injured, Jean-Luc. I can't…"

He sadly nodded, accepting her decision. "Well, you know where I'll be…"

Only a slight movement of her head indicated that she had heard him.

With that, he swiftly turned and left the suite, not even noticing Gretchen standing down the hall behind him.

A moment later, Gretchen went in search of her daughter.

"You are out of your mind!" was the first thing that Gretchen said to her daughter. She didn't have to guess that her daughter had refused to go to the birthday party. She knew her daughter.

"Mother, it is none of your business."

"You're refusing to go to the twins' birthday party because of Chakotay!"

"Mother, I have to be at the hospital." Even Kathryn thought that her protest sounded weak.

"No, you don't." Her mother was adamant.

Kathryn placed her sweater on the back side of her vanity bench and turned to glare at her mother. "This is my decision."

"Well, it's the wrong one!" Gretchen took a step closer to her daughter. "Kathryn, Anna and Billy Bob adore you. They've welcomed you to their family when they could have just as easily made life hell for you, if they had wished it. And knowing my new granddaughter, Anna would have been very inventive if she hadn't wanted you married to her father." She placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Kathryn, go for an hour. Maybe two. Anna and Billy Bob will remember that you were there. They won't care for how long." She sadly smiled. "Then you can go sit by Chakotay's bedside until it is time for the Tom Paris' next assigned shift to take over the watch. You know your Voyagers care as deeply for their former first officer as you do."

Kathryn tried to ignore her mother's words. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"I am on my way there now – to beam over with you." She waited for Kathryn's response.

Instead, her daughter sat down on the edge of the blanket bench at the foot of the bed, and crumbled. With her hormones running rampant, she sobbed and sobbed. "Mother, it's just been too much…" She waved a hand about the room. "Everything…" She hiccupped. "I survived the Delta Quadrant!" She tried to prevent herself from hiccupping again, but did not succeed. "But I don't think that I know how to survive this…" She wailed, "I don't know what to do!"

Understanding her daughter was not an easy thing to do all the time, but this, Gretchen could cope with and help. She enveloped her daughter in an embrace offering her motherly comfort, as Kathryn cried into her shoulder.

After a few minutes, Gretchen whispered, "You will survive. You're strong, Kathryn. You come from sturdy stock. You'll even learn how to cope. Now, come on, Katie. You can't do any good for Chakotay, at the moment. But it would do your husband a world of good to see you at the birthday party. Even if you only attend for a short while. You know how high your husband holds you in his esteem."

"I'm not the 'great' Captain Janeway. They call me that you know. But, they're wrong. I don't know that I ever was 'great'. That woman - she doesn't exist…"

"No, you're not a 'great' captain anymore. You're just an ordinary woman like the rest of us, trying to cope under extremely trying and unusual circumstances." She kissed her daughter's forehead. "Kathryn, you are a Janeway. You will survive." She hugged her daughter tightly before adding, "And knowing you, you will conquer, too."

Gretchen interpreted the shuddering that her daughter made against her chest as a laugh, albeit a weak one at best.

"Now, let's go get you cleaned up and fix your makeup. And then we will be ready to beam over to the party." She felt her daughter nod into her shoulder.

Lifting her head, Kathryn looked up into blue eyes that were almost identical to her own. "Whatever shall I tell Jean-Luc? I didn't really mean to be so difficult…"

"Try stubborn." She smiled. "You're pregnant. That can cover a multitude of sins. And that's always the best card to play when trying to apologize to a husband when you don't really want to appear as if you're actually apologizing to your husband."

Thirty minutes later they beamed over to the garden party at Jean-Luc's ancestral home.

Kathryn was immediately hugged by two happy children who then just had to introduce their step-mother to the two puppies that they'd received from Gretchen and Mildred. One was a pure bred Irish setter. The other was a mutt, a Heinz 57, though the true meaning of that phrase had been lost throughout the centuries.

Kathryn was impressed that both puppies sat when ordered to do so. Not that they sat still for very long, for both twins were on a sugar high, and needed to run just about everywhere. And already, the puppies were following them wherever they would go.

A few minutes later, Kathryn finally caught up with Jean-Luc inside the wine center. She tried to look apologetic.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear as he bent forward to kiss her cheek and embrace her. The fist that had been clutched within his chest finally started to relax. Then he guided her into the tasting room of the vineyard warehouse where the buffet and the cake were on display. Ludvig and Marie had definitely outdone themselves in preparing foods that six-year-olds would enjoy, and that the adult would welcome as well.

When they approached the room-long bar that was covered with tempting dishes as well as a wide variety of wines and punches, Jean-Luc nodded at his brother Robert who then handed Kathryn a tall wine glass half-filled with some sort of pale rose colored wine.

Kathryn automatically shook her head. "I can't."

"I am not trying to poison you, my dear sister-in-law." Robert seemed insulted by Kathryn's refusal.

It was Marie, coming up from behind them that explained. "That's the wine that Robert created for me when I was pregnant with Rene. It's real wine, but only with a percentage point of alcohol. Fresh orange juice has more alcohol in it."

"But it tastes far better than synthehol," Robert added, pronouncing the word 'synthehol' as if it were a noxious invective.

"It does indeed," Marie added as she watched Kathryn pick up her glass and taste it. The smile that appeared on Kathryn's face was her true opinion as to the quality of this wine.

After the buffet was served, at least for the adults, the twins let loose the hounds – so to speak. The two puppies were clearly the most important presents that the twins had received, so far. And based on the way the other guests, especially the children, were playing with them, the odds were that by the end of the evening, everyone involved would be completely exhausted.

The pure bred Irish setter was named Loxie. The mixed breed puppy had a vague look of a Labrador, the head of an English boxer and the body of a Rottweiler, but with very large paws. When Mildred had found the dog, she wasn't sure what it was, but she knew that it was the right puppy for the twins for this puppy only wanted to be loved. And she seemed to have a great capacity for loving. Anna had named this puppy Winnie.

Admiral Winston Holt Wiley pulled Jean-Luc aside when he learned of the names of the puppies. "The wonder twins named their puppies after Lwaxana and me?" He sipped his brandy, expecting an explanation.

"I don't think so," a quiet voice from behind them stated.

Both men turned to look at the lady. Guinan stood before them wearing a teal ensemble that was surprisingly conservative, until she shook out the alar form extensions that were attached to her shoulders. "Q promised to take the twins flying later on. I thought that maybe I should join them as well, since some of the children at this party have never been flying before with Q." She shook her shoulders in such a way so that Jean-Luc could watch the wings flap.

He groaned out loud as the implications of Q playing with a bunch of six-year-old peers suddenly occurred to him. "Do the parents know?"

"All of them have been warned. And no one has refused permission so far," Guinan added.

Picard suddenly looked at Guinan as if he were just suddenly realizing her presence. "Is the Enterprise back from DS9?"

"No. Riker had to take his ship to Ferenginar on a diplomatic mission," Guinan calmly explained. "I just hitched a ride back with all of the presents from Riker, Deanna, Geordi, Data and of the other friends for the twins. I wasn't about to miss my godchildren's birthday."

"Damn," Winnie mumbled.

Jean-Luc sharply turned his head. "What?" For he'd had a vague sense of something being odd about the way that the Enterprise had been deployed.

"I was hoping that Lwaxana wouldn't have to go to Ferenginar. She doesn't really like Ferenginar, you know. Too damp. But I guess the situation warranted it."

Guinan tightly nodded. "It did."

By her very bland expression, Jean-Luc could tell that Guinan knew a lot more about what was going on than he did. He mentally sighed. However, he was no longer the captain of the Enterprise. And Starfleet business that did not involve the Academy, was no longer his official concern.

"I hope she isn't raising havoc," Winnie mumbled as he drank all of his brandy in several gulps. "Y'all know Lwaxana when she's in a certain mood…"

Guinan only chuckled over the apparent naivety of that statement. Lwaxana had a habit of raising havoc wherever she went.

"What are you laughing at," Winston demanded to know as Jean-Luc started chuckling too. For he'd had a sudden thought.

"Billy Bob and Anna did not name the dogs after you and Lwaxana," Jean-Luc explained. "After all, 'Winnie' is a bitch."

Guinan was wise enough to hide her grin from the head of Starfleet. Though his expression was priceless. She hoped that the official event holo-videographer, Reg Barclay was recording all of this.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc idly watched as his wife brushed her hair. It was long enough to fall below her shoulders now.

They were in their suite at home, and the house was surprisingly peaceful and calm, at least for this night. For Gretchen, Phoebe and her family, as well as the twins, were spending the night at the Château. Phoebe had always wanted to learn about good wine from an expert and Robert Picard, was indeed an expert. At least, that was the explanation that Scott McCall had provided as he had personal visions of a slightly tipsy wife meandering through a very romantic French countryside in the moonlight, alone with him.

"How's Chakotay?" He watched as his wife finished braiding her hair, before she turned away from her vanity to face him.

"The EMH is going to wake him around ten a.m. tomorrow. I plan on being there about nine a.m."

"Do you wish for me to accompany you?"

For a moment, Kathryn paused, stifling her instinctive negative response. "Won't Mildred put out a missing person's report if you don't show up at the Academy?"

"I'll go in after I am sure that everything is fine." He tried to sound as reassuring as he could be, given the circumstances.

He watched as she slid under the blanket to roll on her side to face him. For a moment, she just studied him in the dim night lighting. She lightly touched his cheek and then softly smiled.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc. I would appreciate your support."

He slightly nodded as he raised himself up on his elbow just to look down upon her and study her for a few moments. "And thank you for coming, today. And staying."

"I wasn't thinking straight earlier," she confessed, hoping that he would understand all that she wasn't saying.

He wisely refrained from making any mention of her mother's interference as he clasped her hand and leaned down to kiss her palm.

"I'm exhausted," she whispered as she sensed an inquiry behind this gesture.

Jean-Luc accepted this, for to tell the truth, it had been a very tiring day. He was ready to go to sleep too. "Would you like a massage?"

"No, Jean-Luc. Just hold me, please."

"Of course," he pulled her close against his body, "now, just what did you mean by giving Billy Bob and Anna piloting lessons as their birthday presents?"

"You're calling William, 'Billy Bob'!" she suddenly noticed.

"Of course," he patiently explained, "I am calling my son by his preferred name."

She started to laugh. "Oh, you're a sly one, Jean-Luc Picard."

"So are you," he noted. "You still haven't answered my question about the lessons."

"I've played my admiral's card to arrange time on the beginner's flight simulators. I'll teach a few of the lessons, and so will Tom Paris."

"He's a hot shot pilot," Jean-Luc protested.

"That he is. He's also the best there is. He'll teach the twins the right way to do things."

"Before he teaches them some of the 'wrong' things when such tactics are necessary." He smiled, accepting this possibility. "Please instruct Mr. Paris to refrain from teaching Billy Bob any of his piloting 'tricks' until after I have approved their progress."

"I'll do my best," she sleepily agreed, for the tonic that the EMH had insisted that she drink this night in order to get some rest, was finally taking effect. For Doc Joseph knew his former captain too well. Staying up all night worrying about Chakotay, would have been a typical action for Kathryn Janeway. But her health and her pregnancy, demanded another solution this night.

"I guess I'll have to remind B'Elanna not to let the twins play with Miral's bat'leth…," she mumbled.

TBC


	30. The Calm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guinan and Q have a little talk.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 30:

The Calm…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

She skipped along the puffy pink cloud stepping stones, even as she idly wondered why Q liked puffy pink clouds so much. She stopped moving when she hit a blushing fog wall, swirling with purplish layers, that was densely and directly in her path. Q did like his dramatic set ups.

"Q?" she called out, as she pushed the tip of her deep lavender slipper into the cloudy wall. She idly mused that at least she was color coordinated for this meeting.

"Over here," a voice echoed.

"You'll have to be more specific," Guinan countered, as his voice bounced around the cloud array. "You do love your altocumulus clouds," she mumbled to herself as she bravely walked into the mists.

"Must you always complain? It's one of your least-attractive traits."

Guinan was finally able to locate him following his annoying voice. "Only when you pick such charming places for our rendezvous."

"What's the matter with puffy pink clouds?"

"Their overabundance," she suggested, as she wiped some mist off of her amethyst sateen clad shoulders. She glided over by his chair, and plopped herself down on what was a surprisingly comfortable chaise lounge, draped in opalescent aurene, plushy fabric.

"You wished to talk?" Q waved his hand, and a gold and jewel encrusted goblet floated over to where Guinan was.

"Have you brought the twins here?" Guinan looked around even as she tasted Q's version of nectar of the gods. "It looks like a great place for hide-and-go-seek."

"Of course, I've brought Anna and Billy Bob here. They have to experience the luxuries that are in store for them when they grow up to become Q."

She raised a hairless eyebrow before she stated the obvious. "Jean-Luc won't let that happen. He will most definitely put up a fight."

"Oh, I know that our favorite pet human won't wish this future upon his children. And that it will take him a while to realize that it is Billy Bob and Anna's decision, and not his own." Q drank his cocktail. "But sooner or later, he will come around."

"Care to make a bet?"

"Against you? I am not that foolish, Guinan. You cheat."

"Yet, you still called me here to discuss matters." She brushed some more mist off of the brim of her hat.

Q nodded. "Yes, I'm beginning to suspect that Jean-Luc is becoming curious…"

"About what the Enterprise is doing…"

"Frankly, Guinan, I am surprised that the Continuum has let Riker's investigation proceed as far as it has. They are at Ferenginar, and have discovered that DaiMon Bok is not on the planet."

"They don't know where Bok is." She waggled her now empty goblet, and more liquid appeared in her golden cocktail chalice. "Hell, I don't know where Bok is. But I do suspect that my son Remy is somewhere around there, wherever there is. He hasn't been in touch with me for a while now." Guinan normally didn't worry about her children unless she didn't hear from them for at least a century or more.

"Not precisely," Q mentioned as he materialized a lot more alcoholic nectar for the both of them, in tall crystal decanters. He had a feeling that they both would need it tonight.

She raised her head from her goblet. "What do you mean?"

"I sent Remy to look after someone, and it was not Bok." He glared back at Guinan. "And no, I do not know where Remy is precisely. I just know that in order to appease the Continuum Council we have to play by their rules – for now."

Guinan thought for a moment, and reached some conclusions. "Remy's with Beverly, isn't he? You've intimated as much a few times in the past." She shooshed away a cloud. "Including here, as I recall."

"Damn El Aurian memory," Q cursed, then wisely decided to explain before Guinan forced it out of him. "Beverly doesn't know it, but wherever Beverly is, your son is by her side. I mean technically, he isn't a 'Q' so the non-interference Continuum decree doesn't really apply to him, does it?"

"I suspected as much." She drank some more, then sighed, "Poor Jean-Luc. He may never forgive us when he learns what we have done to him."

"Never think that, Guinan. We didn't do anything to Jean-Luc. However, we did prevent bad things from being done to him. Thanks to our meddling, the man married the woman he loved, had children with her, and spent over three blissful years loving her before the Continuum did what they decided was necessary to do."

"But did the Continuum really have to do it, Q?" She shook her head hard enough in denial that her aubergine colored head covering rippled. "Did the errors in the time line have to be fixed by destroying Jean-Luc and Beverly's happiness?"

"They weren't supposed to have that happiness in the first place, Guinan. Only thanks to our interfering did they at least have some moments of joy. Neither one of us had the power to change the Continuum's decision, Guinan. Saving him. Saving her." He mordantly chuckled. "And saving us. That's been taking all of our efforts and energies."

Guinan still shook her head. "You know Jean-Luc is going to find out one day, about our involvement in this mess. Then there will be the Denebian devil to pay."

"By the time that even might occur, the time line should be righted; Beverly will be back in John Luke's arms. And our twin secret weapons will be old enough to matter to this mess of a situation. And they should be powerful enough by then, to stop Jean-Luc from hurting us."

Guinan only glared at him, as she mentally picked apart all the things that could go wrong with Q's scenario.

Q knew that look. "All right, Beverly will be a problem. But maybe if we ask the twins to plead on our behalf we'll have a fighting chance of surviving that woman's wrath."

"Worth a shot," Guinan amiably agreed as a floating shimmering crystal wine ewer poured more glimmering potent potables into her goblet.

They drank some more, contemplating the myrmidon mess into which they were now stuck. Q wasn't used to being forced to do things for a power more powerful than the Continuum. He did not like it, and neither did Guinan, even if she only interfered from afar, now and then.

Guinan finally asked, "But what about Kathryn?" For though Guinan did not know this woman well, she did not dislike her. And part of her felt guilty for meddling with this woman's life as well.

"Well, with any luck in time, my Kathy will finally realize that she loves me." Q smiled at that thought as he daydreamed about everything that he would do for his favorite bipedal female.

Guinan inwardly grinned, for she knew that she would do everything in her power to keep Kathryn Janeway out of the arms of Q. And preferably the lady would find a home in someone else's arms. Besides, Q's wife was never going to let any other female take her place - at least not without a fight. And there was a portion of Guinan's soul, that anticipated that eventuality with glee. For her money, would always be on Mrs. Q. Not to mention Kathryn Janeway when that lady found out about Q's future plans for her.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Wesley stretched, and then rubbed his weary eyes.

Quark, with quite a bit of helpful persuasion from Lwaxana, had finally found and then bartered with his cousin, three times removed, for the original Cousin Ev's memorial holovid. Of course, he grumbled about how much it was costing him.

Now, Mr. Data and Wesley were analyzing every nanosecond of information on the original holovid, over and over again.

"Wesley, you should get some rest," Data remarked as he did a cursory scan of his young friend's physical data. "Your blood sugar is low at sixty-eight, your electrolytes have reached a state of non-sufficiency for optimum biological performance, and by my calculations, you have not had any sleep for thirty-six hours and forty-three minutes."

"Data, I know that I am tired. But, I can't sleep until I know what happened to my mother." He leaned back into his chair, and glanced over at the several screens that were on display in Mr. Data's office. Then he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"I believe that we already do 'know', Wesley. There is now an eighty-seven percent chance that the woman in the holovid is Beverly Howard Crusher Picard." He examined, once again, the now more clearly detailed holovid that was frozen in place before him.

"Yeah. But where is she? Is she still alive?" Wesley slammed the flat of his hand onto the Vulcan cedar table top. "We have more questions than answers!" He spoke with anger. "We don't know where. We don't know when. We don't know why. We don't know what was done to her. We don't even really know where to look next!" He stood and complained with a louder voice. "We just don't know!"

"But we will find out, Wesley." Data was doing his best to be a reassuring friend.

"Yeah, if anyone can find answers, it will be us." Wesley turned away from his friend, and walked over to the star portal. "But what if we don't want to find what we will find…"

Even though Wesley had spoken softly, Mr. Data heard him.

"Wesley, we will do what we must do in order to rescue your mother." He moved closer to his friend, and placed his hand on the man's left shoulder. "Besides, remember it is your mother about which we are talking. I have never underestimated your mother's intelligence, ingenuity, survival skills and her determination to return to you and the people that she loves. If your mother was a captive, the odds are sixty-four percent in her favor that she now is the one in charge." He squeezed Wesley's shoulder. "If your mother is alive, we will find her. Provided of course, that your mother does not find us first." He stepped away from Wesley. "Now, get some rest, Lieutenant Commander Wesley Crusher. Go to your quarters and sleep."

"Is that an order?"

"If you make me, it will be," Data suggested.

Wesley slowly nodded, as he wiped away a stray tear, for Data's assessment of his mother was pretty accurate. "Thanks, Data." And then he left the room.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Jean-Luc…" The way she said his name was soft, gentle, matching the quiet, peaceful mood of the garden in the early morning light. The sunrise was just beginning to peak over the mountain ridges. The air was heady with the scent from the closest rose garden, mixing with the fragrances from the medicinal herb garden that Beverly had planted near the terrace over six years ago.

"Guinan." He placed his delicate bone china teacup back on its saucer, and then motioned toward the other side of the wrought iron café table that was positioned by the breakfast room's terrace doors. "Care for a cup?"

She seated herself, and eyed the dark brew in his cup. "I'm coming off of an all-night visit with a pig-headed immortal. I need Ludvig's coffee, triple strength."

"You drank too much?"

"Jean-Luc, I know my limit." She refrained from shaking her head, which seemed to have some Bajoran drummers pounding away within its interior. "However, knowing your limit is something that is hard to judge when you're given a bottomless goblet that refills itself every time you take a sip."

Jean-Luc nodded. "Thanks for the warning. I'll stick to tea the next time I am forced to endure the hospitality of the Continuum."

"Oh, we weren't at the Continuum. Q took me to one of his hidey holes."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow.

Guinan chuckled. "It truly is a hidey hole. Q created it as a hide-and-go-seek playground for your little darlings." She ruefully laughed some more. "I think that Q is spoiling Billy Bob and Anna far more than either of us suspected he was doing."

"I was afraid of that. Something that Billy Bob said…," Jean-Luc remarked, as he watched, as if by magic, Ludvig appear with a large Sheffield pot of coffee, and a very large mug, for Guinan was not in the mood for drinking from a small bone china relic that have survived several centuries.

"Good morning, Madam Guinan," Ludvig pleasantly greeted the lady as he poured her black coffee. "Please finish this off as quickly as possible for Madam Kathryn is getting dressed and will be downstairs shortly. She has enough on her mind this morning. She does not need to be distracted by the smell of my 'real' coffee as well."

This time Guinan raised her eyebrow. This fact explained why Jean-Luc was drinking tea on the terrace instead of his usual morning coffee. "I'll take it with me." She stood, drained the mug, poured more of the coffee from the silver pot into it, and then walked over to kiss Jean-Luc on the top of his head. "I'll be by the hospital later. Tell Kathryn 'hello' for me." With that, she glided around the side of the house.

Jean-Luc was amused as reached for his teapot to pour some tea out for his wife.

Ludvig stayed his employer's hand. "Perhaps, Madam Kathryn would need a cup of my special coffee this morning – a small cup," he added, as he reached for an empty tea cup and poured a small measure of coffee into it.

"Perhaps that would be a wise idea, since I suspect that the minute my wife makes an appearance, she will demand to go to hospital."

Jean-Luc glanced over at the chronometer that was by the doors on the terrace. "It is barely seven a.m. It's too early for our arrival at the hospital. I think that we both have time for a light breakfast, Ludvig."

Ludvig nodded as he stepped into the breakfast dining room and returned pushing a cart containing freshly baked croissants, scones, assorted Austrian breakfast pastries, yogurt, and fresh berries dusted with powdered sugar.

"Madam Kathryn has lost a little weight," Ludvig explained as he placed pots of butter and Centaurian strawberry preserves on the table, along with plates, and silverware. "Doctor Joseph sent me a message that the lady should eat many more calories." He looked down at Kathryn's coffee. "I don't suppose I could add some cream and sugar…"

Jean-Luc interrupted him. "Only if you want Kathryn to fire you…"

Ludvig accepted this advice.

A moment later Kathryn appeared, wearing a soft yellow crocheted tunic sweater over a matching pair of darker colored slacks. "Good morning, Jean-Luc. Why didn't you wake me when you got up?" She sat down and absentmindedly picked up her tea cup, and took a sip before she realized what was actually in it. She looked down into her cup. "What?" She sniffed the aroma with bliss.

"A small cup of real coffee every now and then, will not harm you," Jean-Luc mildly announced as he smiled at Kathryn's surprised expression. He picked up a scone and slathered it with lemon curd. "Eat." He pointed at the cart. "And then we'll go to the hospital," he reminded her as he passed her the yogurt and the bowl of mixed berries that had been her usual choices for breakfast lately.

She caught the gleam in Jean-Luc's determined gaze. Her husband did have a way of reminding her to eat. She was in the mood for a fight this morning, but it wasn't with him. So, she conceded him the marital point as she helped herself to a chocolate croissant.

"Yes, dear."

TBC


	31. Before...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Wiley gets a call. Chakotay wakes up.

TV Shows » StarTrek: The Next Generation » DETACHED: JEAN-LUC: HIS STORY  
Author: mabb5 « »   
Rated: T - English - Family/Romance - Reviews: 42 - Published: 08-29-16 - Updated: 06-23-17 id:12124776  
DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 31:

Before…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Excuse me, Admiral Wiley," a very nervous cadet dared to squeak out as he tried not to upset the Fleet Admiral too much. He had actually tiptoed into the Admiral's office.

Winston Holt Wiley opened an eyelid. At his age, he never liked being bothered while taking a nap, especially when he had given specific instructions not to be disturbed in his inner, inner sanctum whilst he was napping.

"What!" He didn't try to hide his grumpiness. He had achieved an advanced enough age; he was what he was.

"Captain William Riker is calling for you on a secured link, Sir." With that announcement, the cadet backed out of the office as quickly as he could do so.

Wiley supposed that a call from his son-in-law was sufficient reason for the newest cadet addition to his staff to bother him in his inner sanctum. He conjectured that the lad had drawn the short straw amongst his office staff for giving him the notification.

"Ah well," he grumbled as he forced his leg to cooperate, and stumbled over to his desk, for he refused to use a cane when it was only for a couple of steps. He slapped a comm link button as he kathumped down onto his overstuffed office chair.

The calm yet cordial face of the captain of the Enterprise appeared on his screen.

"Will! Am I a grandfather, yet?"

Will flashed one of legendary smiles. "Not yet, Holt. According to my CMO, it will be at least six more, very, very long weeks before your granddaughter is born."

Wiley studied the expression on Will Riker's face. Based on what Will was and was not revealing, the end of the Federation was not immediately imminent. So, this call had to be about something of slightly lesser importance than the destruction of Starfleet. Which meant that it was about the captain of the Enterprise's mission.

"What have you discovered, Will?"

Will eyed his father-in-law, and stiffened just a bit. "Commander Data believes that there is an almost ninety percent chance that the woman in the holovid is Beverly."

Wiley closed his eyes for a moment. "Damn," he whispered, for he knew what this verification implied about Beverly's fate. He opened his eyes, his emotionless, glinty-eyed stare evident even through a communication that was being sent through sub-space over hundreds of light years. "You'll send me your report?"

"Already attached to this call, Holt. But that is not why I've contacted you."

"Oh?" He could tell that his son-in-law had suddenly assumed his 'command diplomat' visage. This captain was learning rather well, what it took to be the captain of Starfleet's greatest ship. Winnie grudgingly approved of the way that Captain Riker was evolving.

"I just wanted to tell you, that Commander Data has uncovered something else."

"And that is, Will?"

"DaiMon Bok is not in a Ferengi prison. It is possible that Bok was never incarcerated. He escaped…"

It took a moment for Winston Holt Wiley to recollect the importance of DaiMon Bok.

"Shit." He paused and took a deep breath as the ramifications of this news sank into his consciousness. "I am assuming that DaiMon Bok went the usual way a Ferengi criminal escapes - through the back streets of Ferengi politics: bribery, intimidation, and profit." Wiley groaned as everything began to really be comprehended. "Jean-Luc," he mumbled as certain incidents possibly began to make sense now. "Didn't we have someone checking up on Bok? Even the most insignificant of ensigns at the consulate on Ferenginar cannot be so incompetent as not to notice if Bok was in his cell or not."

"Actually, Bok altered the DNA of the stooge that he hired to replace him. The usual, standard DNA medical tricorder scan would have confirmed that it was the real DaiMon Bok. Only a DNA test as sophisticated as the one that Commander Data did, would have revealed that the prisoner living in Bok's prison suite was not the real DaiMon Bok."

Wiley groaned some more, even as he was unwilling to admire DaiMon Bok's ingenuity. "Now what?"

"I am going to notify Admiral Picard about DaiMon Bok's escape."

Wiley could see that Will would not change his mind about this. This captain was adamant about warning Jean-Luc Picard as soon as possible about a probable source to his troubles.

So, that was what this call was about.

It took Wiley a while before he slowly nodded in agreement. "Jean-Luc should know. Tell him. Maybe that will explain some of the incidents that have been happening to Jean-Luc and Kathryn, lately. I'll send you the reports, Will. There has been some concern about escalation in the attacks for at least one ensign was killed in the latest incident." He paused for a moment, and when Will didn't say anything more, Wiley asked, "And about Beverly?"

"We have more unverified theories that we do provable facts. Until I can give Jean-Luc the answers that he needs and deserves concerning Beverly and her disappearance, I don't think that we should tell Admiral Picard what we have discovered so far. It's too open to speculation. And we do not have, as of yet, any solid leads."

"Agreed. Don't tell Jean-Luc. Keep him out of the loop for now." Wiley grimaced, as he ordered, "Keep investigating, Will. As long as necessary." A sudden thought passed over his face. Wiley involuntarily grinned at the thought of it, which was not exactly a reassuring sight. "How are you surviving Lwaxana?"

"Well as a force for dealing with the Ferengis, she is a power that they cannot stop or control. She just bulldozes them with her charm and deviousness. Her diplomatic skills almost make up for the way she has been smothering Deanna. As for how I have been dealing with her, well, let's just say that you owe me a stiff over-sized double of your best black label whiskey when I bring your wife back to you."

"Sounds about right, Will. Lots of the good whiskey with a very high real alcohol content - that's how I survive living with Lwaxana too." Wiley smiled as if he actually meant it, before adding, "Give the lady my love and tell her to call me when she gets a chance. Do your best, Will, and keep me posted."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Kathryn…"

His voice was weak, breathy. Yet, for an instant, it revealed everything – especially to Jean-Luc. Kathryn Janeway's former first officer still loved her. He watched from afar by the door to the intensive care room, as Kathryn's body language revealed the extent of her concern for the man on the bio-bed.

"Head hurts..." It took Captain Chakotay a moment, as if he were trying to reassemble the jumble of thoughts in his head before he whispered, asking, "Seven?"

"Safe," Kathryn reassured him as she squeezed his hand. "And Seven went into labor early. So, Chakotay, you have a son. Kol is in NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit); recovering." She smiled down at him. "He's a beautiful baby boy, Chakotay. I know he's what you've always wanted."

"A son?" The captain was still a bit befuddled, and understanding that he was now a father didn't help his swimming and swirling head. He blinked again, took in his surroundings and recognized that he was in some sort of hospital facility, and then rallied up enough strength to ask, "What's happened?"

"Another crashed shuttle," Kathryn teased, even as she caressed his hand. "Fortunately, you were not piloting it."

Chakotay closed his eyes. "Something happened to the pilot. Seven was trying to reach him…" He opened his eyes. "I don't remember anything after seeing her rush toward the cockpit." His look was suddenly agitated, darting around the room, trying to find her. "Where's my wife?"

"Annika is fine. She had some injuries that required our doctor to deliver the baby and then place Kol into stasis for safety on Mars. Now that we're at Starfleet Medical, he will be fine. Annika was quickly healed on Mars." Kathryn patted his shoulder. "Tom has gone to get Annika." She gave him her most reassuring smile, trying to disguise all of her fears. "You woke up faster than our EMH predicted. Contrary, as always."

At this point, the doctor inserted himself into the conversation, even as he waved his scanner about. "How do you feel, Captain Chakotay?"

"Head hurts." He winced as if he were finally noticing his own physical condition. He tried to move. "Head really hurts. He glanced down his body and finally recognized the significance of the tented blanket covering his body

"My legs…"

"You will recover, Captain. You broke both of your legs, your left ankle, your left hip was shattered, and you have some broken vertebrae. I have already repaired, as best I can, the majority of your broken bones. However, your most serious injuries were to your brain. But you will recover, once we precisely assess your brain functions. And based on the way you are responding, the damage to your brain is not quite as severe as I had suspected. Fortunately, you still have a hard head, Chakotay." The EMH patted Chakotay's arm. "Which is very good news indeed, Captain."

"What?" Chakotay tried to move his arm toward his head.

"It's why your head hurts, Captain." The EMH produced a hypospray and pressed it against the man's neck. "In spite of your hard head, your brain was, in layman's terms, bashed. That's why you're in a neck brace, too." He checked then analyzed the myriad monitoring panels. "If you continue to improve, and the next couple of surgeries should help with that, you should have the neck brace removed within the next twenty-four hours."

It said something about Chakotay's present state, that he hadn't even noticed that he was in restraints.

"What?" He tried to move again. And couldn't.

"Don't push it, Chakotay," the doctor said in his most reassuring voice. "You'll be moving about soon enough. And when you do, you might actually wish that you were back in restraints, where life will seem infinitely easier than what awaits you once you start physical therapy." The EMH checked the bio-panels again before adding, "It will take a while, Chakotay, but eventually you will be back to your old self."

Chakotay closed his eyes. And then he was unconscious again.

Doc Joseph scanned him. "He's only sleeping." He patted Kathryn's shoulder. "I couldn't give him too strong of an analgesic since he will be in surgery in a few hours. At least it's a natural sleep. Which means he's healing."

"But Annika," Kathryn protested.

"I can wake Chakotay when Annika arrives," the doctor quickly added. "Now, it is time for you to leave for a while. I need to run some tests and then schedule the surgical prep teams…" He tried to give his former captain a well-practiced reassuring smile but she knew her EMH too well to fall for it. "Now, you need to relax, drink and eat something healthy. Or else, I will order an escort to take you home to rest."

Jean-Luc silently stepped up to his wife's chair understanding the doctor's not-too- subtle warning. "Come, Kathryn. Let's get some tea and sandwiches. And then we will talk to everyone who is waiting to hear about Captain Chakotay's condition. After you have rested, we will return."

Knowing Jean-Luc was right didn't alter Kathryn's feeling that she should stay with Chakotay. But she knew when to acquiesce especially since she did not doubt that her husband was quite capable of sending in B'Elanna with a bat'leth to annoy her in order to accomplish her far too fussy doctor's orders.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn was somewhat surprised when instead of a waiting room, Jean-Luc escorted her into a conference room. Ayala, Reynolds and Baytart were already seated around the table, joined by B'Elanna, Harry, Icheb and Vorik. As she was seated next to her husband, B'Elanna started filling cups, passing around coffee or tea to the various participants. A moment later, Mildred entered the room, nodded in approval as she counted heads, and then sat herself down at the opposite end of table, across from the admirals.

Mildred merely looked toward the admirals.

Kathryn started explaining what she knew about Chakotay's condition. When everyone was caught up to date, she permitted Jean-Luc to pass to her a mug of tea as well as some tea sandwiches.

"Where's Tom?" Kathryn asked of B'Elanna, as she sipped her tea, heavily laced with cream. She did not prefer her tea this way, but she knew that the doctor was insisting that she increase her consumption of dairy, not to mention gaining some more weight.

"I sent him to find Annika," Jean-Luc elucidated as trays of sandwiches and pastries were passed around the table, followed by cups of coffee or tea.

A moment later, Tom entered, carrying a padd. "I couldn't find Seven," he rapidly explained as he walked over to Admiral Picard. "This was left in her quarters with your name on it, Jean-Luc." Considering the informal air of the meeting, Tom Paris had decided to keep it on that basis. Then Tom grabbed a plate of sandwiches and sat down next to his wife.

Knowing what the lieutenant commander was doing, but deciding that perhaps it was the best way to proceed with the Voyagers, Jean-Luc sent a questioning glance toward Mildred. "Why are you here, Mrs. Krebs?"

"Got some reports from Mars. The robotic welder had been commandeered in real time, which is why nothing suspicious showed up in its programming."

B'Elanna dropped her padd. "I just got a message from Mars station saying that the engineers hadn't discovered anything yet."

Mildred slightly smiled. "I've got better and more reliable resources than you do, Commander Torres." She picked up one of her padds and slid it toward B'Elanna. "Whoever did this is good – on many levels." She glanced down at another padd. "The perpetrator took over the robotic welder's programming without setting off any alarms, knew exactly where not to mention when, to fire, and managed to accomplish all of this without detection."

"How?" Kathryn interjected, sensing that her former chief engineer and friend was getting her Klingon dander up by the way the half-Klingon was fidgeting.

"Current situation analysis suggests that the control was implemented from a small cloaked ship directly outside that section of the dome." Mildred noted that B'Elanna's jaw had dropped slightly with this bit of information.

"That's theoretically impossible," Lieutenant Reynolds argued. "All the Mars facilities are supposed to be protected by cloaked ship shield detectors."

"Obviously not…," Mildred mentioned.

"Unless they are using a cloaking method that we don't know about," B'Elanna rapidly explained, as she looked at the data on her padd. "I'm going to have to analyze all the readings to see if I can figure out how they did it…"

Jean-Luc took several sips of his Earl Grey before he spoke. "None of this still answers any of our questions, the foremost being 'why'?"

"And if the shuttle crash and the laser attack are actually connected." B'Elanna spoke even as she still scrolled through the data on her padd.

Mildred touched a couple of buttons on her padd, before speaking. "So far, a connection has not yet been discovered. And since I am a firm believer in there being no such things as coincidences, I will have my people keep on investigating."

"I might be able to add something to the discussion about the shuttle crash." Tom spoke up, even though he was still eating a chicken salad sandwich.

Kathryn only looked at her former pilot. He recognized that look. He put his sandwich down.

Tom quickly continued, "According to some pilots that I know, Esposito liked to gamble. Usually, the time that he spent gambling was restricted by a lack of funds. However, three nights before the crash, Esposito won a rather substantial latinum pot in a dabo game. He then spent the next three days and nights gambling at the Tarzania casino in Burroughs City."

Mildred nodded as she tapped on her padd. "I'll check out the circumstances of the win."

"Yeah, from what my friends told me, Esposito went straight from the casino to the

Shuttle bay," Tom mentioned.

"That doesn't sound right," Kathryn pondered. "How could he have passed the pre-flight physical if he was exhausted?"

"There are certain illegal stimulants out there," Lieutenant Reynolds suggested, "that can fool physicals, especially if they are only cursory, routine examinations."

Jean-Luc Picard only inwardly groaned as more questions kept piling up, with far too few answers forthcoming.

After a few more minutes of discussion, Jean-Luc stood, and Kathryn joined him. "My wife needs to rest. We will continue our discussions when the situation warrants it."

She sent him one of her looks over his trying to control her again, even though she knew he was right. She turned and bestowed upon Lieutenants Ayala and Reynolds a brilliant smile. "Lieutenants, would you mind escorting me home? I feel in the mood for a little nap." With another telling look in her husband's direction, she permitted both men to walk out with her, arm-in-arm.

Shaking his head, knowing it was just simply because he was tired that he had made such an elementary mistake in trying to deal with Kathryn, he sat back down to read the padd that Annika had left for him.

"Boss."

Jean-Luc looked up and was surprised to see Mildred standing by the door.

"What?"

"Roland Hand is here to speak with you. He was waiting until you were alone. Shall I bring him in? Or would you rather return to your home office?"

Surprised that his personal family lawyer had sought him out, Jean-Luc motioned for Mildred to go and get him. Pouring himself another cup of tea, he awaited Mr. Hand's arrival.

The man arrived alone, wearing the kind of well-tailored business suit that would immediately establish him as a man of substance, and not a Starfleet officer.

Jean-Luc stood, extended his hand and greeted his lawyer.

"Roland? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Roland shook his client's hand, declined the offer of coffee, and then sat himself down, eyeing the padd that was in front of the admiral.

"I take it that you have not read Annika Hansen's message, yet?"

Surprised by Roland's words, Jean-Luc nodded. "No, I haven't yet found the time. In fact, I was just about to read it when Mildred told me that you were here."

"I'm sure that it contains some personal messages for you and Captain Chakotay. My client, Annika Hansen, has authorized me to inform you of a few matters both legal and personal."

The way that the man said it sounded somewhat alarming. "What has Annika done?"

"Annika has left Earth. She's on her way to Vulcan. I believe that Commander Tuvok's wife, T'Pel, is assisting her in attending several Vulcan schools of discipline and meditation, as well as undergoing medical and psychiatric evaluations."

"She left without telling her husband?" Though Jean-Luc could believe that Annika was capable of such an action, he found it hard to comprehend that she had actually left her husband and infant son behind with nary a word.

Roland gave a barely perceived nod. "That's what the padd is all about." Roland's expression might have revealed a bit of sympathy over the situation as he continued. "She's divorced Captain Chakotay." With that bombshell announced, the lawyer reached over and poured himself a cup of coffee, as he waited for Jean-Luc to react.

Roland Hand was not that surprised that Admiral Picard displayed no visible emotion on his face. Jean-Luc Picard's control was legendary, after all.

"I presume that Annika Hansen has left my wife and I as guardians of the minor?"

"Until the father is capable of fully assuming such guardianship. Then, temporary full custody reverts to Captain Amal Chakotay."

"Temporary full custody?"

"I believe that it is Annika Hansen's intention, that sometime in the future, after she finishes her discipline studies on Vulcan, to return and discuss matters about her son with her ex-husband. She has retained me to look after the interests of the minor, as well as some of her business interests."

Jean-Luc didn't specifically ask, but he could guess that Seven of Nine might have copyrighted quite a few innovations or advances, especially if Roland Hand had been advising her.

"I am assuming that any profits from these patents will go into a trust fund for Kol?"

"Admirals Picard and Janeway are authorized to access those accounts when they materialize, to be used at your discretion, presumably for any expenses that might occur for the baby."

"Keep all monies in the account, Roland. I have no need of Annika's credits."

"Captain Chakotay might feel otherwise."

"If he does, can Kathryn and I sign away our authorizations?"

"Of course, Jean-Luc. Though based upon what Ms. Hansen has told me about Captain Chakotay's character, I doubt given the circumstances, that he will accept anything from Ms. Hansen."

Though Jean-Luc Picard did not know Chakotay well, he did not doubt that the lawyer's assessment of the man's nature was accurate. "I see."

"Captain Chakotay's medical condition might warrant otherwise…" Roland Hand suggested as he always considered all the possibilities.

TBC


	32. An Admiral Loses Her Temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it. And Jean-Luc has to deal with some legal matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, right now, I am all caught up with the chapters that I've posted on fanfic as well as here. I am trying to post them in both places at the same time when I can. Thanks for reading.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 32:

An Admiral Loses Her Temper

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"She did what!?"

Jean-Luc Picard had never seen his wife so angry. On one hand, her evisceration of Seven's character combined with all of his wife's stomping and yelling, could be viewed as a good thing, especially since the alleviation of stress from her anger would have to be beneficial for their baby. However, calming her down might avoid any distress on their baby too.

Oh, he had heard the whispered stories from more than a few people associated with his wife; primarily those 'idiots' at the Admiralty, about the lady's temper. He knew that his wife was like him – neither of them suffered fools gladly. And there was an incident from the seventh year of her voyage that had been so highly classified to the point where it had taken Mildred's skills to get a hold of the Equinox personal logs about what Kathryn had almost done to Noah Lessing. But nothing had quite prepared him for this 'display'.

So, for the moment, he chose to do nothing as he watched her stomp in circles around the sofa in their library. He only hoped that she didn't throw things when her ire was this great, because most of the bric-a-brac on display – at least at her adult height level – held fond memories for him or had some antique or artistic value. On the other hand, Kathryn did not have the reputation that she threw things, so even as he warily watched his wife curse in what now sounded like a most inventive string of Bolian epithets, he began to relax just a little bit. He had been impressed earlier, by Kathryn's command of Klingon invectitudes. She even knew some Klingon curses that he had never heard before.

Suddenly, she was in front of him, staring down at her husband on the sofa. Her arms were akimbo, with the palms of her hands braced against her waistband, her fingers slightly worrying the nubby finish of her sky-blue silk and linen slacks.

She eagle-eyed him. "Well? Say something?" she commanded in her best 'she who will be obeyed' tone of voice.

He countered with utter calmness, which annoyed Kathryn a bit. "Your command of Klingon curse phrases is impressive. And I am a bit of an aficionado when it comes to Klingon profanity ever since I learned quite a few phrases when I was Gowron's Arbiter of Succession." Jean-Luc was trying to attain a rational discourse, even though he doubted that Mr. Data, if he were here, would give him any possible odds for achieving such a state.

She lowered her chin, staring at her husband, even as she took a deep breath and did not quite bellow, "I didn't know that you were Gowron's Arbiter of Succession. You'll have to tell me all about it – later!" She actually sounded interested in his accomplishment for a moment. Then, she continued to inspect husband. "You really hadn't a clue?"

It took him a moment to follow the train of thought of her words. "Seven had talked about getting therapy and studying Vulcan disciplines…" He ruefully shrugged.

Kathryn finished the sentence for him, "You just didn't suspect that she was going to divorce her husband and abandon her son and would actually do it immediately." She plopped down next to her husband with a huff. She rested her aching head on her hands, before admitting, "Oh Jean-Luc, what are we going to do?"

"What we were always going to do, once we learned of the accident. We will support and take care of Chakotay and Kol."

"You don't have to sound so reasonable about it."

"Kathryn, Seven is coming back. Eventually."

She turned to examine her husband's face. "Now, what do you mean by that? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"She only gave us – and when he is well enough, Chakotay – full temporary custody of Kol." He leaned forward to clasp Kathryn's right hand and squeeze it. "Regardless of the status of Chakotay's relationship with Seven, she does not intend to give up her son."

"I'm sure that will comfort Chakotay a lot." She moaned into the one hand that was still supporting her face. "Whatever am I going to say to Chakotay?"

"On this, I think we should consult with Doctor Joseph. Chakotay's physical condition is of paramount importance. When our EMH feels as if it is safe to tell Chakotay the news…"

"Jean-Luc, we can't delay telling Chakotay. Between the press and all of the Voyagers who have probably already figured out that Seven has scampered by now, there is no way that we can keep the news from him, unless he is kept sedated."

"I think that is something that only Doctor Joseph can decide," Jean-Luc firmly stated. "For Chakotay may not physically be able to cope with the news…"

"Shit." Kathryn had finally found a human word that would suffice.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc silently stood in the darkened library for only the holographic fireplace was lit, as he carefully placed a pillow under his wife's head, and covered her with a quilt. Kathryn had fallen asleep about forty-five minutes ago, on his shoulder, and Jean-Luc did not wish to disturb her because he was being summoned to an incoming call. He knew that she needed all the rest that she could gather.

He padded over to his desk, and switched the incoming call to the breakfast room's comm system. Then he carefully left the library and walked down the corridor for a few doors before he reached his destination.

As he settled into a wicker armchair, the last face that he expected to see, though it was a welcome interruption, was Will Riker.

"Will." He cordially greeted his friend. "How's my ship? Still in one piece?"

"My ship is doing just fine, Jean-Luc." Will gave Jean-Luc one of his better grins. "Deanna says hello…"

"And just how soon will I become a godfather?" Jean-Luc knew that he might be presumptuous about such an honor, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Will and Deanna were going to return a former favor.

"Damn Lwaxana," Will complained. "Does that woman have to blab everything to everyone?" He caught Jean-Luc's overly-pleased expression, and conceded, "Yes. Deanna insists that you be one of our daughter's godfathers." He gave his former captain a dazzling smile. "And so do I insist as well."

"Thank you, Will. Tell Deanna that I am honored." He heard another buzz from Will's console. Based on the way it kept insistently buzzing, Jean-Luc could readily deduce who was trying to get the captain's attention, even in the privacy of the captain's ready room. "Having a lot of fun chauffeuring Lwaxana around the galaxy, Will?"

"I don't think I'd describe chauffeuring Lwaxana around the galaxy as 'fun', Jean-Luc. This is the only time I really miss not having you on the bridge, mon capitaine," Will just had to tease. "As I recall, you were usually pretty handy in keeping the ambassadress distracted."

"Shall I tell you everything that happened when Lwaxana was a permanent guest at Picard House, Will? She stayed here more than a year. And she was trying to capture Winston Holt Wiley at the same time, too."

"Well, I've heard Lwaxana's many fairytale versions of that visit, Jean-Luc. One of these days, I suppose that I should hear your recollection of what happened – on condition that you provide the drinks."

"Next time you're in town, Will."

Both men chuckled together.

Suddenly, Will's expression altered. And by the change in his expression, Jean-Luc knew that whatever it was, it was serious. It was time to find out why Will called.

"What's happened, Will?"

"Worf had a question. And he mentioned it to Data. Naturally Data was curious. So, he dragged Wesley along, to help investigate that which he just had to investigate in order to satisfy Worf's curiosity." Will shook his head. "The scheme was elaborate, Jean-Luc. If Data hadn't been with us, I doubt any of us would have realized the extent of the con game. Or figured it out."

"Explain, Will."

"DaiMon Bok is not in prison. He escaped. We don't know when, though we will try to find out."

Jean-Luc blanched as he comprehended Will's words. "How?" This word was tersely spoken, as he ignored Will's concerned expression.

"DaiMon Bok hired a stooge to take his place in prison. He had that Ferengi's DNA altered, like Bok did with your ex-son. So, whenever the fake Ferengi was scanned with a tricorder, the tricorder identified the DNA as the DNA that belonged to Bok. But thanks to Mr. Worf's original suspicions, Data and Wesley physically double-checked the original Bok DNA sample. And they discovered the deception when then compared it to the fake Bok."

There was a long pause as Jean-Luc assimilated all of this. "Then Bok could be behind the recent attacks against my wife as well as myself."

"That's a real possibility, Jean-Luc." Will shook his head. "We just don't know how long Bok has been free. It could have been for years…"

As that implication registered, Jean-Luc paled even more. "Beverly…"

"It's not an impossibility, my friend."

Jean-Luc covered his eyes with his hand as he strove to deter his anguish.

After a very long moment, Jean-Luc removed his hand, pulled his invisible command mantle about his shoulders, and curtly nodded. "I take it that Wesley is hell bent on investigating."

"As are all of us, Jean-Luc. Once the Ambassadress is finished with her mission, we will continue exploring, searching for answers." Will looked a way for a second. "I've already informed Admiral Wiley of what's happened, and he's granted me permission to do everything that's necessary. We all want to find out what happened to Beverly and the K'Tosh, Jean-Luc. And now that we finally have a lead, we will."

It would only be after Jean-Luc concluded the call, did he idly wonder why Captain Riker had to inform Fleet Admiral Wiley about this discovery, before he had contacted Beverly's husband.

He sat quietly in his chair, thinking, even as time rolled ever closer to the dawn.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was barely five a.m. Ludvig was not quite stirring about in the kitchen, yet, though Kathryn knew that in about half-an-hour, he'd be getting ready to prepare the breakfasts for the wide variety of people who lived and/or worked at Picard House.

The computer had told her the location of her husband who had not made it to their bed last night. She found it hard to believe that he'd fallen asleep in the breakfast room. One glance through the opened door convinced her that this was exactly what Jean-Luc had done. She studied him for a moment. He had fallen asleep in a most awkward and uncomfortable-looking position. His head was at a most peculiar angle. And his snoring was louder than usual too.

She stepped back into the hallway and checked the house computer looking for a muscle regenerator. She wasn't surprised at all to learn that the closest regenerator was located at the bottom of Jean-Luc's desk drawer. Walking back into the library, where she had spent a few hours of the night sleeping on the sofa before stumbling up to bed, it was not unexpected to discover that Jean-Luc had a cache of regenerators from dermal to osteo. He had a medical tricorder too. She didn't want to guess what was in his collection of hyposprays, though considering his monthly Thursday parties, she could presume that there was a detoxification dose or two. She grinned as she remembered what she used to keep in her quarters on board Voyager – just in case.

Kathryn was pleasantly surprised that he had programmed the security lock scanners on his desk drawers to automatically respond to her fingerprint. She assumed that the locks were primarily there to keep the twins from investigating for she knew that he kept any classified materials in his business offices.

Moving quietly back into the breakfast room, she lightly patted Jean-Luc's arm.

He grunted, mumbled something that sounded like 'what?', and then opened his eyes. She could tell that he was surprised as to his location. And then he tried to straighten up. The pain from his stiffened neck muscles crossed over his face, even as he let loose with a 'merde'.

"Stay still," she commanded. "I've got the muscle regenerator." He complied, as she passed the medical instrument over his neck a few times. "Need it anywhere else?"

He moved his shoulders and then his arms. "Unfortunately, yes." He held out his hand, and she placed the instrument in his hand. He fixed himself.

"How on earth did you fall asleep here? These chairs aren't that comfortable when we're eating breakfast. I can't imagine how you fell asleep with all that wicker poking into you."

"The only reason the wicker is poking is because there are two puppies who like to chew on the arms and legs," Jean-Luc grumbled. "I am going to be sending the chairs out to be fixed – and replacing them with wrought iron substitutes."

She considered his words. "That might work – unless the puppies decide to focus on the seat cushions."

"We could keep the doors closed."

Kathryn shuddered, "Then they'll just find something else to gnaw." She mightily sighed. "I guess my Mother will have to find us a professional dog trainer. We can't have Winnie and Loxie chewing their way through every room of the house."

Kathryn thought that she heard her husband grouse, "Puppies…"

Kathryn perked up a little. "Now, why did you choose to fall asleep here, of all places?"

"Will called." For a nano-second, he debated not telling Kathryn what he'd learned. But then decided that a captain who could successfully survive the Delta Quadrant, could cope with his news.

"Let's go into the library. It's a long story…" With that, Jean-Luc ordered two large mugs of tea from the replicator, and trailed after his wife as they went into the library.

After they were settled, he took a sip of his Earl Grey, and then nodded, as if he'd reached a decision. Placing his mug on a side table, he began, "When I was captain of the Stargazer, I had a deadly encounter with a Ferengi named DaiMon Bok…"

TBC


	33. And Then There Was A Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay gets some lousy news even as he tries to recuperate

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 33:

And Then There Was a Storm…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay had become accustomed to seeing Kathryn by his hospital bedside whenever he was conscious enough to open his eyes. Before he had gathered enough strength to do so, he took a mental inventory of himself. He guessed that several days had passed, though he still wasn't sure because of all of the surgeries that he had been undergoing. He knew that he was in pain but it was controlled and endurable. He tried to move some muscles and realized that he was regaining some sense of mobility which was one of the few good pieces of news about his condition that he had discovered.

This time when he opened his eyes, the last person that he was expecting to see was Jean-Luc Picard doing the bedside watch instead of his former captain.

"Draw the short stem bolt?" Chakotay mumbled.

Surprised by these words, Jean-Luc grinned, as he glanced up from the padd that he had been reading. That this man could have a sense of humor in spite of what he was undergoing, gave Jean-Luc a real sense of his wife's former first officer's strength of character. And Jean-Luc Picard was coming to like Captain Chakotay more and more, as he got to know the man better.

Chakotay glanced about the room, acknowledged to himself who was missing, and decided to grapple the Tarsian bull by the horns.

"Where's my wife?"

Chakotay could see a tiny flinch in the man's face, which really meant something given the rumors about Jean-Luc Picard's legendary control.

"Annika's not here, is she?"

Chakotay was physically stronger now, so Jean-Luc could see no point in lying to this man. "Annika has left Earth. She has gone to Vulcan to study their disciplines. She preferred Vulcan consultation over psychological therapy here at Starfleet Medical."

Chakotay closed his eyes for a while, then finally uttered with more strength than he thought that he had, "Is my wife coming back?"

"Probably." Jean-Luc leaned closer, and touched the man's arm in sympathy.

"Kol?"

"Annika legally gave Kathryn and I, temporary guardianship of Kol, Chakotay." He saw the man's eyes widen in distress even as Jean-Luc quickly added, "And as soon as you are well enough, you will become his guardian."

There was an audible sigh of relief.

"Temporary guardian?"

"It sounds like Annika is intending to return, Chakotay. When she left, she apparently was very upset."

"In other words, my wife didn't tell anyone she was leaving."

"None of the Voyagers, at least," Jean-Luc admitted.

"None of them knew? Not even Kathryn?"

"It is my belief that Kathryn would have been the last person Annika would have told. If Kathryn had known that Annika was leaving, I do not doubt that my wife would have ordered the closest starship to go after her and bring her back."

"Probably in handcuffs," the abandoned husband whispered. Chakotay closed his eyes for another overlong moment. "She didn't leave a note?"

"Actually, Annika did." Jean-Luc shifted his chair to move a little closer to the patient. "I can bring the padd to you, if you're up to reading it."

"Did you read it?"

"No, Chakotay. I did not." He paused, considered his next statement, and then added, "However, Annika did leave me a message outlining what she wished for Kol. And you."

"How kind of her."

Jean-Luc was not that surprised to hear the man's sarcasm, especially under these trying circumstances. Being told that your wife has left you when you are seriously injured, lying on a sick bed, is never going to be a good thing.

"Did Seven leave Kathryn a message?"

"As far as I know, Annika has not. Trust me, Kathryn most certainly would have said something if she had received one. My wife was a wee bit irate when she had learned what Annika had done."

In spite of his pain, Chakotay could well envisage what coping with a 'wee bit irate' Kathryn Janeway was like. Kathryn had rarely lost her temper on board Voyager – at least, not as captain in front of any of her crew. But there had been a few occasions when he had heard her stomping and cursing in her quarters after a particularly trying incident or two. And once or twice she had even done so in front of him.

"You have my sympathies." In spite of his pain, both physical and emotional, Chakotay managed a wry grin. "I can recall…"

For a while, Jean-Luc sat in empathy with the injured man. Both men were contemplating this turn of events and what it could mean in the long term.

After a few minutes, Chakotay was finished studying this man's face, and found the fortitude to ask, "There's more, isn't there?"

Jean-Luc slightly nodded in acknowledgement. "Annika has legally divorced you. She did not wish to encumber you with her problems, according to what she wrote on the padd that she left for me."

"Most efficient," Chakotay whispered, before he closed his eyes, too tired to deal with reality any more.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

There was a sound at the hospital room door. Turning away from the padd that he was reading, Jean-Luc whispered, "He's sleeping."

Nodding, Kathryn stepped back out into the hallway. Jean-Luc joined her, and sensing that his wife might be upset with what he had to tell her, he motioned toward the small waiting room, down the hall.

After Jean-Luc got Kathryn some hot chocolate, he sat down next to his wife on a small settee, and turned to face her.

"What did you do, Jean-Luc?" Kathryn idly asked, as she correctly interpreted the somewhat concerned expression on her husband's face.

Realizing that Kathryn was beginning to 'read' him too well, but rather liking the thought that they were becoming truly a married couple in sync with each other, Jean-Luc admitted, "I told him."

Anger flared, but it was controlled. Placing her cup on a table, she faced her husband, and spoke in low, neutral voice, without a trace of accusation or suspicion. She trusted this man to act in Chakotay's best interests. "Why?"

"Chakotay asked."

That gave Kathryn pause. "What?" Then she realized that it was that simple. Kathryn almost smiled as she recognized how typical this was of Chakotay's personality – not to mention Jean-Luc's character.

"Chakotay finally found the nerve to ask where Annika was. Considering the kind of honorable man that Chakotay is, he deserved to be told the truth."

Kathryn really couldn't disagree with her husband's assessment of the situation. "All of it, Jean-Luc? All of it? Even the divorce?" Her voice rose a little as she questioned her husband.

"Of course." He quickly added as if to stop her from interrupting him. "I checked with our EMH before I even went into Chakotay's room, to see if he was healthy enough for any kind of discussion. I really had not intended to tell him about Annika unless he did inquire about her."

"Damn."

She picked up her cup and drank some more of the sweet liquid. Then she looked down into the cup as if it were offensive to her. "Ludvig's hot chocolate is much better. The only way this stuff would be good is if I added coffee to it – a lot of coffee."

"Just about everything Ludvig prepares is much better," Jean-Luc observed. "It's one of the reasons as to why I keep him around."

Diverted by her husband's words, Kathryn just had to ask, "And Winston never tried to poach Ludvig?"

"Winston tries every time the man sees Ludvig."

"The man is incredibly loyal to you, Jean-Luc."

"Actually, I think it's because I have an antique Steinway concert grand piano in my grand ball room, that might be the main incentive as to why Bronislawa and Ludvig live with us in their apartment. His wife truly loves that piano."

At this statement, Kathryn just had to laugh. And she began to relax.

And Jean-Luc felt as if he had accomplished his mission. Not really wishing to revive their former discussion, but knowing that he must, after a few minutes Jean-Luc coolly asked, "Did Annika leave you a message?"

"No." Kathryn looked away, trying to hide her additional hurt over her protégé's thoughtlessness. "At least none that I know about."

Jean-Luc accepted this. "When we return home, you can read the message that Annika left to me. It was primarily about legal business."

"Borg efficiency," Kathryn grumbled, as she finished of her chocolate, stood, and then turned toward the hall leading to Chakotay's room. Jean-Luc joined his wife, holding her hand as they walked back to Chakotay, together.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay felt someone moving about. But he didn't quite feel like opening an eyelid.

"Wakey, wakey," an unknown voice suggested.

Chakotay didn't want to.

"You have company," the too-chipper voice mentioned.

"I always have company," Chakotay countered. "My friends are forever keeping me from sleeping."

"You're lucky, young man, to have so many caring friends."

Chakotay opened up one eye to glare at the woman about to protest the use of the word 'young'. Then he decided that compared to this woman, he was a young man. She looked to be about sixty but was probably older. She had golden hair piled into a bun, rosy cheeks, was slightly plump and had a very bright, glowing smile that she beamed down at him. He then decided that she was tall. Very tall.

"Are you a new nurse?" he grouched.

"Nope. I'm you're physiotherapist. My name is Phrynne, but you can call me 'Phrynne'."

Chakotay decided that it might be a good idea to call this lady 'Fry' if she stuck around. He was pretty certain that it would annoy her.

The therapist continued. "Dr. Norah Bolt and that talks-way-too-much photon concoction convinced me that I should work with you. So, I'm here to do a proper assessment of your obvious physical problems, and then get you started on your long road to recovery. I've a firm believer of diving right into to your rehab – both physical and psychological." She bestowed an angelic smile upon him. "Your pain, my gain." She patted his shoulder. "You may hate me for a while, but once you're over it, we'll be the best of pals."

What she said and how she said it somewhat disconcerted Chakotay, especially since he felt like doing nothing more than reveling in his depression.

"No."

"I do not recognize that word from a patient," Phrynne primly informed him

"You do, at this moment," a voice from behind her announced.

Almost with a feeling of relief, Chakotay was very glad to see his EMH.

"You can torture Captain Chakotay after we are done with him," a voice from behind the doctor informed the therapist. "I'm sure that he will be glad to see you by then. I'm Admiral Kathryn Janeway-Picard, by the way." She walked over and shook the therapist's hand.

Chakotay's eyes widened a bit when he realized that Kathryn was not above throwing her rank around in his cause. He was grateful.

Jean-Luc didn't bother to hide his surprise as he trailed after Kathryn, into the room. It was the first time he had ever heard her introduce herself using her hyphenated name.

Kathryn turned and smiled at her doctor. "Are they ready?"

Jean-Luc glanced out the door, espying what he wanted to see approaching. "They are coming."

"Then I'll get Captain Chakotay ready," the doctor remarked as he went to a station and picked up a sanitizing instrument.

"Ready for what?" Chakotay was a little nervous, especially since Kathryn was beaming with understanding. And she was displaying her trademark twinkle of mischief in her expression as well. He found this disconcerting, especially when the doctor began rolling up his right arm sleeve, and scanning the arm and the hand with the sanitizer.

A moment later, Jean-Luc stepped aside from the doorway to allow a nurse and a yeoman roll in something very special. They were followed by Tom and B'Elanna.

But Chakotay's eyes were on the chamber that the staff was rolling up to his bed.

The doctor finished his sterilizing, dropped the shimmering forcefield around the unit, and smiled at his confused patient.

Kathryn stepped closer to her friend and tried not to cry as she softly announced, "Chakotay, meet your son. Magnus Kolopak Chakotay."

The doctor helped his stunned patient place his sanitized hand inside the chamber. For a moment, Chakotay wasn't quite sure what to do. The doctor moved his hand closer to his son's hands, as if he were giving his patient a hint. Hesitantly, Chakotay's fingers carefully stroked impossibly tiny and delicate fingers. Even as the stunned 'father' part of his psyche did an automatic inventory of toes and fingers. Everything that should be there, was there.

The new father's feelings were indescribable. A rush of love and pure joy just swelled forth from his heart.

For a moment, time stood still as a father met his son for the very first time.

Sniffles could be heard about the room even as Tom recorded everything.

Suddenly, bright blue eyes flew open. And much to the amazement of all who saw this, it seemed as if this baby smiled directly at his father. Acknowledging him.

And Chakotay was overcome. He didn't notice Kathryn's tears or even his own for he was seeing his son for the first time. This child was now the focus of his being; as well as his primary reason for living. And in order to be a father to his son, he had to recover.

Chakotay had a son. And his son needed him.

The baby closed his eyes.

Chakotay was too overcome to say anything.

Smiling, the doctor informed Chakotay, "In about forty-two days, you'll be able to hold your son in your arms, and take him home. And then, if you're a good patient, you'll be able to feed him and play with him…"

B'Elanna just had to whisper, "And change diapers… And rock him when he's crying at 0200 hundred hours…"

Chakotay had enough strength to actually smile at these words, though he wasn't about to stop stroking his son because of this interruption.

With a quick scan of his sensor, the EMH knew that it was time to let Chakotay rest again. He helped remove his patient's arm from the chamber, and then nodded at the nurse to roll the baby back to the NICU.

The EMH just had to superciliously add, "Captain Chakotay, if you are a good patient – unlike the reputations of some of the other former captains standing in this room, and if you follow your therapist's instructions, you may be able to hold your son outside a maturation chamber even sooner than six weeks!"

As the doctor escorted the baby out of the room, he mentioned to Phrynne, "Ms. Fisher-Smyth-Smith, please come back this afternoon for your first session."

"Already have it scheduled," she tartly responded, for her sole purpose of coming at this hour was to see how her patient would react both physically and emotionally to the presence of his son and his friends.

The doctor nodded in agreement as he left.

Kathryn just stood there, holding Chakotay's hand, trying silently to express all that she felt over Chakotay meeting his son for the very first time.

"Thank you," Chakotay weakly said. "All of you. Thank you."

B'Elanna came forward and kissed his cheek, whispered, "I'll see you later, Old Man."

Kathryn didn't move.

Jean-Luc walked over to Kathryn who was still holding Chakotay's hand and kissed her cheek. "I've got to return to the Academy. I'll be back later." He glanced down at the former commander. "Captain Chakotay, I order you to please remind Kathryn to eat."

Chakotay managed a laugh. "I can do that even in my sleep Jean-Luc. Plenty of practice." The two men shared a look of understanding.

"Men!" Kathryn muttered loud enough so that both men did hear.

TBC


	34. And Its Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More disturbing details

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 34:

And Its Aftermath…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"They are Ferengi!" Wesley protested. "Their primary reason for existing is profit." He stopped speaking for a moment, as he tried to focus his thoughts. "What I can't figure out is how they profit from stealing ships! I mean, selling parts? People? Cargo?"

"Go for the obvious, Little One," a somewhat tired Lwaxana answered, as she lounged on the sofa in Data's lab that she had commandeered. For some reason, she had decided to join Wesley and Data to work on their never-ending quest to find out what had happened to Beverly.

Wesley was tired too. In fact, he was exhausted. So, he blurted out, "What's that supposed to mean?"

It was Data who analyzed the answer and then the question. The android then suggested, "Are you referring to pirates, Madam Ambassador?"

"Why not? It's the simplest answer, and it explains why these rogue Ferengi are taking the ships that contain the telepaths."

"What makes you so sure that they are 'rogue' Ferengi," Wesley argued.

"Because they could not be kidnapping people and ships under the official auspices of the Ferengi Government. The penalties that the Federation would impose upon Ferenginar for such crimes would bankrupt the planet, and therefore the Nagus." Lwaxana took a sip of the Altarian summer wine that she had brought along for her visit. It was not necessarily her favorite after-dinner wine, but it was the best bottle that Mr. Homm had found in her son-in-law's wine vault. Lwaxana never bothered to ask just exactly how Mr. Homm had gained the access code to the captain's wine vault. Such trifles were beneath her.

"Mrs. Troi-Wiley is correct, Wesley," Data explained.

"You can't believe that no one on Ferenginar doesn't know about this pirating!" Wesley protested.

"Don't be silly - of course they know," Lwaxana countered. "I'm sure that there are any number of conspirators from all levels of Ferengi society, who are involved. And the profits must be enormous for the pirates to have dared so much and then succeeded as well as they have. Their cover-up alone is impressive, not to mention that it is costing someone a Nagus' fortune."

Wesley plopped down in his chair by the desk, and put his head down on the surface. "None of this makes any sense anymore."

"Go to bed, Little One. It will make more sense after you get some sleep. And while you are sleeping, Mr. Data and I will confabulate."

Mr. Data was surprised by the lady's pronouncement. Though he was somewhat fond of the Betazed Ambassador, for she was one of the first people outside of the Enterprise who had ever treated him as 'normal', and almost as an individual being in his own right, finally having feelings meant that the lady could irritate the heck out of him too. He now totally sympathized with what Captain Picard had endured when this lady was on board the ship.

Surprisingly, Wesley just simply stood and walked out the door. Data waited a few minutes before he checked to see if Wesley had made it safely back to his quarters. In the meantime, of course, he was studying data charts, and analyzing all the facts that they knew so far, one more time.

"I think that it is possible, Madam Ambassador, that the Ferengi did not actually commandeer the ships themselves."

Lwaxana finished off her Antarian wine, and then looked around to locate the bottle of Berengarian brady that she had also brought along to Data's office. "Care for a drink?" she politely asked the android.

"Thank you, yes," the android politely replied.

Lwaxana fumbled and almost dropped the bottle but when it came to bottles containing alcohol, she had extremely quick reflexes. "What did you say?"

"I would like a drink." Data walked over to his replicator and ordered two brandy snifters, since it seemed as if Lwaxana was not inclined to replicate the proper glasses herself.

"What?"

The android smiled. Considering all that she had imposed upon him during the journey, he did not mind getting a little of his own back, as Geordi would phrase it. "I do occasionally eat and drink, Madame Ambassador…"

"Oh, call me Lwaxana," the lady protested. "All my friends do."

"Thank you," Data politely answered, even as he smiled at Lwaxana when he assumed Mr. Homm's role and poured the lady her drink. He almost filled the lady's snifter to the brim with the lavender liquid. As for his own glass, he poured into it precisely 10ml of liquid. And then he sipped it.

"You're analyzing what you are tasting?" a now curious lady asked.

"Yes, Lwaxana. It is how I quantify to the best of my ability, the human experience. I will never know exactly what it is to 'taste' food or drink, but I will have precise chemical analyses of specific foods and liquids that will help me categorize, so that I can approximate the experiences of eating and drinking."

Lwaxana waved her hand. "Whatever." Then she put her glass down on a table, sat straight up, and looked Mr. Data directly in the eye. "I think that the rogue Ferengi are hiring Orion pirates from the old Orion Syndicates that have been officially disavowed, to do the dirty work. Ferengis do a lot of things, but I don't think they could ever put together enough competent buccaneers of their own to take over eleven different Federation vessels, and not leave a trace."

Data nodded. "You do have a point in your assessment of Ferengi pirating capabilities, Lwaxana." Data glanced toward the closed outer room door. "I take it that you did not wish to worry Wesley with this possibility?"

"Not until I can come up with some proof behind all the rumors I've been hearing, dear Mr. Data." She took a very long sip of her brandy before continuing. "There are simply too many horror stories about Orion Pirates out there. I'm sure that some of those stories are based in fact, but I prefer to present Wesley and Jean-Luc with known facts rather than unsubstantiated nonsense." She quickly drained her snifter before adding, "Unfortunately, there are quite a few of my resources who confirm that only a few of the Orion Syndicates stopped being pirates when the legitimate Orions joined the Federation. Rumor has it that large groups of them officially broke away from the government, disappeared, and took their trade in whatever, with them in quite a few directions away from the Orion home worlds." She shoved her empty glass toward Mr. Data.

The android obligingly refilled it.

"I have also heard similar rumors about certain Romulan political groups," Data suggested. "Perhaps this is the connection with the Ferengi that formed the pirate fleet."

"And it would make sense that the Romulans would want Vulcan pon farr slaves," Lwaxana considered. "Oh, those poor men and women…"

Data was going to ask what the men would have to do with it, but then realized that perhaps the Ambassadress was correct. There would be those who could want Vulcan males.

Lwaxana closed her eyelids, intending only to rest her eyes for a brief moment.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Wesley may have been flopped on top of his covers, but his mind, in spite of how exhausted he felt, was still racing around all over the place. There was something hovering on the edges of his thoughts, that he couldn't quite place. Yet, he knew that whatever it was, was important.

Pummeling his pillow, he tried to find a comfortable position, but soon he surrendered to the inescapable – he had to remove his boots if he wanted to at least attempt to get some sleep in any sort of position.

He shoved the first boot off and watched it fly away into the darkness. The second boot went flying too, but based on the sound that it made when it kathunked against a metal chair leg; it must have landed close to the dining table. "Two different directions," he mused, as he considered the randomness of his efforts. "Two different directions…"

And then he bolted upright. Smacking the comm badge on his night table, he contacted Data.

"Data, have there been any ships with telepaths that have disappeared since the K'Tosh?"

"Wesley, you should be sleeping," Lwaxana argued trying to mask her distress at being rudely awakened; she was making sure that Wesley wouldn't be sleepy after her words were yelled toward Mr. Data's comm badge.

"Wesley, the K'Tosh was the last ship that disappeared."

"Over five years ago," Wesley quickly added.

"Yes, Wesley. Five years, one month…"

Wesley interrupted his friend. "But what about other ships with telepaths that have disappeared since then?"

"None in the area of…"

Wesley interrupted his friend again. "Anywhere else, Data! Anywhere else!"

Data quickly scanned his data banks. Paused, reread the information, and then announced, "I believe that you are correct, Wesley. Seven other vessels registered to the Starfleet or Federation, carrying a majority of telepathic passengers and crew have disappeared over the past five years. Most were journeying on deep space missions traveling in several different directions." Data enumerated. "Two went toward Deep Space 9 to go to the Gamma Quadrant for scientific research. Three were scheduled to dock at Deep Space 42, but they never arrived. And two disappeared near the Alawanir Nebula." Data paused for a moment. "Wesley, do you wish to know the ship names?"

"Later, Data. I'll be there in a minute."

"No!" Lwaxana ordered. "You need sleep, Wesley. You're exhausted. I can sense it. I'll send over a sleeping pill that will knock you senseless. Before you wake up, Mr. Data will have uncovered all the information available. Then we will go and bother Will with the details."

Wesley wanted to argue, but he knew Lwaxana too well. If he didn't take her sleeping medicine, she'd send Mr. Worf after him. Wesley knew that the Klingon would have already devised a much less pleasant way to put him to sleep, if he did not comply with Lwaxana's commands. Wisely, Wesley would take the pill when it materialized on his nightstand.

"Thank you, Lwaxana."

The lady smiled as she recognized that Wesley was conceding. She always knew that he was a clever boy…

Then she decided to rest her eyes again.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Riker read the padd containing the report written by Commander Data. He examined the data. And then he raised his eyes to look at Commander Crusher and Commander Data who were standing in front of his desk in his ready room.

"My God," was all that he whispered. "I cannot believe that Starfleet Command didn't figure this out."

Wesley spoke up. "Sir, in their defense, reports of these disappearing ships did come in to Starfleet Command. I know that they were investigated by one of the divisions for I saw most of those reports as they crossed Fleet Admiral Wiley's desk. But no one, not even I, drew any connections between the disappearances. The incidents happened at random intervals with large gaps in time between the occurrences. They were seemingly unconnected. The disappearances were always assumed to be the results of what happens when you send research vessels into uncharted space, with such circumstances as poor civilian ship maintenance, spatial anomalies, etc. There are thousands of reasons as to why a ship disappears without a trace."

"And with the alleged dismantling of the Orion Syndicate pirate fleets, I don't believe that anyone considered an organized pirate danger to exist." Commander Data sounded as if he were at his most efficient best.

For a while, Riker's expression was grim as he reread some of details on his padd. "Is there any discernible pattern to these disappearances?" Riker finally asked.

"None that I have determined, so far," Mr. Data politely informed his commanding officer.

Captain Riker stood and went to his replicator. "Raktajino, Wes?" even as he ordered a mug for himself.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Be seated," Riker ordered as he strode over to his sofa, placing the two coffee mugs on a low table.

Data retrieved the padds that he had provided, and sat down next to Wesley.

Riker drank from him mug, and then said nothing for a long while. Speaking as if he had just had another terrible thought, "Mr. Data, did you research the disappearance of any non-Federation aligned vessels that might have possibly had telepaths on board?"

"I had not expanded my research to that extent. I will do so when I return to my lab, after I awaken Lwaxana," Data announced

Captain Will Riker did not really have to guess as to why Lwaxana was asleep in Mr. Data's laboratory.

"You think they've been going after non-Federation ships?" Wesley considered the newest possibilities.

"It would make sense if they did," Riker concluded, "since if the motive behind the attacks is profit, rather than an incursion against the Federation or for any other nefarious agenda."

"All of the Federation ships have disappeared near the outer boundaries of Federation Territories. Three were near the Neutral Zones," Data remarked.

"And maybe the Neutral Zone and beyond, is where the ships are being taken," Riker carefully remarked. "We know something is happening. We have a profile of who is most likely to be taken. We suspect we know why it is happening. Now, it is time to focus on where the kidnap victims are being taken." Riker pointed at the star screen display on the wall. "Somewhere out there is where Beverly and all the others have been taken."

Wesley nodded in agreement. "Now, it is time to figure out the location or a least a most likely direction."

"Ferengis appear to be the primary common denominator," Data stated.

"And throw in the missing DaiMon Bok," Wesley interjected. "That DaiMon has spent over four thousand bars of latinum perpetuating his disappearance cover-up this past fiscal year alone according to my cursory inspection of Warden Grus' bank accounts. The money has to be coming from somewhere since Bok lost all of his official Ferengi banked accounts when he was convicted of trying to terrorize Admiral Picard."

Will Riker did not care to inquire as to how Wesley had managed to acquire a Ferengi citizen's private bank accounts. He had a sneaking suspicion that Quark might have had a hand with it. He mentally sighed acknowledging that he was never going to see the dabo winnings that Quark owed to him. Not after all that Quark had done to help find Beverly Picard.

Will finished off his coffee. "Follow the latinum. Follow the Ferengi." He nodded at Commander Data. "Get me a list of all suspect non-Federation starship disappearances as soon as possible. Once I have that information, I'll contact Admiral Wiley." As Data stood to leave, the captain added, "And tell Lwaxana when she wakes up, that her husband would like to hear from her."

"I shall so inform the ambassadress, Captain." Mr. Data doubted that his words would have any effect on the ambassadress. Lwaxana Troi-Wiley would always dance to her own tune, especially when it came to her husband.

TBC


	35. Domestic Agreements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc gets some house guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: I realize that it was a writer's mental block, but I have been misspelling Dr. Katherine Pulaski's name throughout all of my writings. I've been spelling it with a "C" rather than a "K". To mitigate matters though, there have been quite a few other writers, including some pro writers who have made this error too. So, hopefully from this point on, I'll be spelling the character's name correctly. I will eventually go back to correct the error in everything that has been published, but that is going to take a while.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 35:

Domestic Agreements

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Magnifique…"

"A simple 'wow' would have sufficed," she teased as she leaned over him, deliberately brushing her breasts against his chest, as she was trying to decide if kissing her husband's throat seemed like a good idea. She was not yet done with her husband this night in spite of their earlier efforts at loving.

Jean-Luc did not even attempt to hide the smile that was on his face as he reached up to move a wayward strand of her red-gold hair behind an ear. He stroked her cheek for a moment, as he gazed upon his wife's face, still marveling that this remarkable woman had chosen him to be her husband.

"It's been a while."

She lifted her head high enough so that her hair tantalized his shoulder and chest with her every movement. "I know. I've been so exhausted lately. Yet, all of a sudden, this evening, I felt like doing something different, other than falling asleep reading in the library."

"I most certainly am very glad that you were inspired." And she had been very inspired this night.

"You are a very patient man, Jean-Luc." She bent her head to nuzzle a special spot on his neck, shifting her weight on top of his body just a little bit. And then she wriggled. "That's one of the things that I appreciate about you."

"You will always be worth the wait, Kathryn." He was valiantly trying not to accept her invitation.

"Why do you always know the perfect thing to say?" she observed as she tried to decide where to attack his body next. She returned to his neck.

He made an over-exaggerated sigh even as she nibbled.

She paused in her kissing. "What?"

"Much as I would love to spend the rest of the night making love to my wife again," he said as he lovingly stroked his wife's now somewhat rotund stomach, "I have to be at the Academy early in the morning. I have more than a little catching up to do…"

She rolled over onto her side and then rested her head on the pillow next to his head and quietly replied in a voice laced with guilt, "Jean-Luc, I am so sorry…"

He considered her words and what he knew about his wife's behavioral patterns, before responding, choosing his words very carefully. "Kathryn, you know that I am willingly supporting you. And I will support whatever is best for Chakotay and his family. I would have done this for you regardless of which of your former crew, family or friends were involved. Besides, I rather like Chakotay. We have a lot in common. And Starfleet needs officers of his caliber." She shifted her body against him, a bit enticingly, but he didn't stop speaking. "So, cease your apologizing about this mess, or I swear - I will spank you!"

She reared up. "You would not dare!" Then she immediately realized that this was the wrong tactic to try. It would not work with her husband. About to apologize yet again, she noted the gleam in his eye and realized that he just might have another reason for baiting her, so she switched her demeanor and meekly suggested, "Wash your back?"

She felt more than heard his rumble of laughter moving through his chest. Sliding off of him, she stood then, in all her nude glory, with a specific question on her face as well as a glance toward the bathroom, waiting to see how her husband would respond.

Jean-Luc shook his head in wonderment over this woman, as he worked his way through the tangle of sheets before standing upright in his nude glory too. "I would not dream of saying 'no'," he had to admit with a laugh. "Computer, change the sheets!" he commanded as he picked up his bride and carried her with sure strides, toward the bathroom. "It will have to be a quick shower, for I really do need to get some sleep this night," he whispered against her ear.

"No objections, here. Besides, I love the way you share a quick shower."

"And maybe you could spank me…" he teased, as he could not help but admire Kathryn's expanding bosom.

She automatically took a deep breath when she noticed her husband's interest. "I might be so inclined with sufficient incentive…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The birds of dawn were chirping. He could hear their faint calls through the fluttering sheer curtains draping the tall, fenestrated open windows on the north side of their bedroom. Kathryn was sleeping rather soundly against his chest, and he was rather enjoying the quiet perfection of this moment.

It wasn't often that he had a chance to relax and contemplate his life. Considering the many changes of the past year, he was very thankful for almost all of them. He had a new life, now. One that fulfilled him. He had a new wife, now. And he thanked the deities every day for bringing Kathryn into his life. Oh, she was not Beverly, and his life now was not as complete a life that he had envisioned or dreamed about. But, other than someone trying to harm his loved ones, his life was good. And he had lived long enough and had acquired enough wisdom along the way, to know that he was a very lucky man in so many regards. And he had his children and a daughter-to-be in his life now, whereas ten years ago, he had never even imagined such a possibility existing in his life. So, he appreciated all that he had, and did not sigh (too much) over what should have been. He had learned to manage his grief, regrets and longings. And he was glad that he was no longer so alone.

And though, he was not yet willing to admit it out loud, he was coming very close to being in love with his wife. It was a different kind of love, of course, from what he had felt for Beverly. Still, it was love.

Kathryn stirred a little, as if a birdsong had disturbed her.

"Ssshhhh…," he murmured as she rested again.

Surprisingly, he had actually managed to get about six hours of sleep in spite of Kathryn's amatory inclinations. Not that he wasn't appreciative of her efforts. Ever since the accident, her mind had been focused on Chakotay and his family's survival, which was as it should be given the dynamics of her relationship with her former crew and first officer. He did understand, absolutely, her feelings about them. For he felt the same way about his own former crew.

Still, it was nice to be the focus of her attentions again.

He didn't wish to move, but a quick glance at his clock told him that his alarm would be going off in about twelve minutes. Edging himself free of her arms, he silently slid off the bed, and then tapped the 'cancel' command on his alarm's settings.

"Don't go," he heard her mumble into the side of his pillow.

"I have to be at the office rather early. Shall I ask Ludvig to wake you about eight? Or would you rather sleep in?"

She opened one eye. "I have to get to the hospital."

"No need. Tom is there this morning, followed by Samantha Wildman." He stepped closer to the bed. "Chakotay will be in recovery about noon. I thought that you had planned on being there for that."

She opened the other eye. "You're right. Dammit." She closed her eyes. "Tell Ludvig – brunch."

With that, Jean-Luc bent over, kissed her cheek, and then went to get ready for work.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc smiled as he entered Chakotay's hospital room. For the captain was sitting upright listening to some sort of soft jazz piece, and actually appeared to be awake and lucid. For it was Kathryn who was dozing in the recliner armchair by his side, for a change.

Chakotay flashed a grin as he observed Admiral Picard enter the room and then sent a quick glance toward the slightly snoring Kathryn.

"How are you feeling, Captain?" the admiral whispered.

"Right now, I'm good, Jean-Luc," the captain replied. "Of course, some of the meds should be wearing off, soon, and I'll probably describe my state of health a bit differently, then. And I'm pretty sure that Phrynne is coming to torture me later on today."

Jean-Luc nodded, quite sympathetic over what Chakotay was experiencing. For he well knew the pain and the tedium of recuperating. "It's only going to get worse."

"Women always do that to a man…"

"Men!" a voice mumbled beside him. A groggy Kathryn sat up in her chair, as the raised foot rest automatically returned to its proper position. She suddenly stood and announced, "I'll be back," before she went off in search of the admirals' private rest room. Starfleet Medical always had special facilities for admirals and dignitaries. And Kathryn was becoming used to such amenities, especially during her pregnancy.

Both men chuckled, as Jean-Luc took his wife's chair for a few moments. "Has Kathryn discussed any plans with you, Chakotay? For when your EMH releases you from the hospital?"

Chakotay couldn't focus enough to figure out where the admiral was going. "What do you mean, Jean-Luc?"

"Kathryn and I - we've decided that when you are released, you should come to Picard House for your recuperation and rehabilitation."

"No, I don't think so," Chakotay automatically protested, as the thought of being beholden to this admiral – much less Kathryn – was not something that he wished to have happen. "It's too much of a burden on Kathryn, given her current condition."

"Actually, your recuperating at Picard House would alleviate some of that burden, Chakotay. Kathryn will visit you every day, regardless of your location. You know that. I know that. And your EMH knows that to be true, too. So, if you come home with us, you'll have your own guest house complete with rehab facilities and Phrynne in residence, as well as a pool, therapeutic hot water falls, peaceful surroundings, and a haven for you and your son. And Kathryn will have a short, safe walk through a guarded garden patio in order to see you whenever you are up to receiving her."

Chakotay did not speak the protests that had formed on his tongue. For the word 'safe' was now imbedded in his brain. And he suddenly understood all that Admiral Jean-Luc Picard had not said. He knew that neither of them could change Kathryn's mind when it came to that lady doing what she thought was right. But if he recuperated at Picard House, Kathryn would be a lot more protected there, than at Starfleet Medical or some other rehabilitation facility. And he understood that Kathryn's safety was Jean-Luc's primary concern. Chakotay knew that he could not protest the reason behind her husband's logic, for Kathryn's safety was his goal too.

Jean-Luc casually mentioned, as if to persuade him, "And I've already hired a pediatric nurse and an assistant for the nursery. When your son is ready to be released from the hospital, everything will be ready for him. You'll be able to spend time with Kol, as well as feel secure with the knowledge that if anything should go amiss, well-trained medical staff will be on hand."

"You have thought of everything, haven't you?" Chakotay tried to hide his resentment at being managed even though he knew that it was for the greater good.

"For Kathryn's peace of mind, well, yes." Jean-Luc admitted this frankly, hoping that he wouldn't have to spell everything out for his wife's former first officer.

Chakotay's eyes met Jean-Luc's eyes as he nodded, reluctantly accepting the reality of this situation. Both men understood each other. And Jean-Luc breathed a genuine sigh of relief as he relaxed a little bit.

Jean-Luc continued, "Besides, Gretchen wants another grandson to spoil, too. She's been visiting Kol every day in order to familiarize your son with what it means to have people who love him, surrounding him. Touching him."

Chakotay actually laughed at this remark. "In other words, you couldn't say 'no' to Gretchen. I've noticed that she in an indomitable force of nature."

"Where do you think Kathryn learned it from?"

"Is someone taking my name in vain?" a too-treacly sounding voice called from the doorway.

Jean-Luc turned to face his wife as he rose from her chair. "Chakotay has agreed to come home with us, when he is released."

"Good. I always knew he was a smart man." The smile that she bestowed on her former first officer was the most beautiful thing that he had seen for several days. She came over to the bio-bed and kissed Chakotay's brow, lingering just for a moment as she studied his face to see if he was still in pain from the morning's operation. "Thank you, Chakotay." She stood, looked at her husband, and suddenly she had an expression on her face that made her husband very, very wary. There was no disguising the lady's expression of devilish glee.

Chakotay recognized that look and was very, very glad that it was not directed in his direction.

"What?" both men nervously asked in unison.

Kathryn smiled. It was not a pretty, reassuring smile. "I've sweet-talked a doctor to come and stay at Picard House as long as she wishes," she cheerfully announced. "I met her in the hallway, and she was perfectly amenable to staying for a while. In fact, she welcomed my invitation. She likes it at Picard House."

Suddenly, Jean-Luc intuited the source of his wife's amusement. "You didn't," he protested as mental visions of future and remembered torments danced inside of his head.

"What?" Chakotay was a bit confused.

"Doctor Admiral Katherine Pulaski has agreed to stay with us until she has to ship out again, which should not be until about four months from now, which means that she will be here when I am scheduled to give birth," Kathryn announced. The look on her husband's face revealed just how much he was looking forward to having this particular doctor as a house guest. "Admiral Pulaski said something about being one of the few true believers in a sea of Philistines, who really appreciates Ludvig's cooking talents."

Jean-Luc could not stifle his groan.

"Besides, our EMH thinks that it would be a good idea for all of us to have Katherine Pulaski around, especially when I go into the final trimester of my pregnancy." Kathryn sat herself down on her recliner, and innocently batted her eyelids at her husband as if she did not sense any of his perturbation.

Chakotay smiled to himself as he caught an intimate glimpse into Kathryn's relationship with her husband. There were times when he did not envy the man. Kathryn was not a woman who could be easily handled – and woe be unto the man who tried.

Jean-Luc unfortunately realized that he had no logical argument to prevent Katherine Pulaski from bedeviling him during the next few months. And to think that he had actually been at peace this morning. With Katherine Pulaski around, he would know no personal peace…

This admiral-doctor irritated his soul. And worst yet, Jean-Luc Picard would be indebted to the lady, once again.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Ludvig was excited. He happily told his wife about the return of Katherine Pulaski to Picard House, for the lady had a discriminating palate. And her love of good wine was almost a match to Jean-Luc Picard's palate. Brawny, on the other hand, thought that having a doctor on call might not be a bad idea, since her daughter had been teething as of late, and she really did not think that Gretchen's suggestion of rubbing hundred proof vodka on her daughter's gums was that good of an idea.

When Brawny actually got around to asking Katherine about her daughter's teething, this lady doctor recommended brandy instead of vodka. And this was before Katherine got around to the difficulties of having a communal 'grandmother' hanging around, who always seemed to know best and was not shy about expressing her opinion – and was brilliant enough to beat her at chess which was something that most mere souls could not do.

The war of subtlety between Katherine and Gretchen soon would become an epic, behind-the-scenes battle on occasion, which Kathryn, as her pregnancy would advance, would totally ignore. She'd let Mildred referee, if necessary.

Kathryn Janeway knew better than to get in-between her mother and a nemesis. Kathryn idly wondered if she should warn her husband. Kathryn had enough trouble dealing with Jean-Luc and Chakotay. So, she was not about to get involved with one of her mother's contretemps as well. Besides, her mother would win. That was a given.

TBC


	36. They're Getting Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to out-Ferengi a Ferengi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actually posted four new chapters during the past twenty-four hours, so the new stuff starts with chapter 33.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 36:

They're Getting Closer

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Quark's grin was toothy. And wide. His earlobes quivered on occasion as he walked about the corridors. For contrary to his initial opinion about how dull life on board a Federation starship was for a Ferengi, he was actually earning latinum on board the Enterprise 1701-D.

His financial improvement had started out innocently enough. When the officers of the Enterprise weren't checking with him, Quark found himself getting bored, for there were only so many times he could try to drink Lwaxana under a bar room table in Ten Forward before conceding to the undisputed superior capabilities of this lady's imbibing of alcohol. He quickly learned that Lwaxana was bored too, when she wasn't 'consulting' with the senior officers. So, the lady suggested a solution.

One thing led to another. And Quark found himself with a holodeck program that approximated his gambling establishment on Deep Space 9. However, thanks to Data's occasional presence and noted mathematical abilities which forced Quark to keep the dabo games honest, he quickly learned that those who gambled amongst the thousand or so inhabitants of this ship, were only permitted to bet holographic credits. Otherwise, Commander Data might mention something to his commanding officer.

On the other hand, after a little bit of collusion with Mr. Homm, a private poker suite adjacent to Lwaxana's VIP suite, was soon established, where real credits were gambled.

Quark found himself enjoying the trip that had started out only as his doing a good deed. Visions of gambling franchises on board starships danced between his earlobes. He knew that dream was not likely to come true, but one could always hope, couldn't one?

The first time that Wesley showed up at a poker game, Quark thought 'easy pickings'. For some reason, Lwaxana chose not to warn Quark otherwise.

The next time Wesley entered the poker parlor, Quark's smile was patently fake as he watched the too young lieutenant commander ante up. Quark no longer cared that Betazoids, with their possible mind reading skills were showing up at the games, in spite of their promises not to read their opponent's thoughts or emotions. It was when Wesley Crusher showed up at Quark's poker game that Quark and his silent business partner, would lose their latinum.

And then there was the night when Wesley, during a hand which he was actually losing, casually suggested that Quark should run a ship-wide poker tournament. Quark thought about this idea for a while, discussed the matter with Lwaxana who was the boss of his silent business partner, and then decided that it might be a good idea to hold such a tournament. Especially if he could persuade the captain of the Enterprise 1701-D, to participate.

Sure enough, after a few days of preliminary rounds, Riker showed up with his charming, distracting, very-pregnant wife. And the captain displayed the poker playing skills that were one of the reasons as to why Quark had owed Captain Riker latinum in the first place.

It would only be later, that Quark would learn that he had been conned. He had been royally snookered by the entire senior staff of the Enterprise - and their captain.

Oh, the poker games would continue. But Quark no longer cared who won or lost for now he was indebted – big time – to Wesley Crusher, Lwaxana Troi-Wiley, and Captain William Riker, thanks to more than a little extra help from their friends.

It seems there was this li'l ole law about not professionally wagering with real credits on Starfleet starships. The instigator could end up spending years in a Starfleet prison if the starship captain chose to enforce that rule.

Quark was not given a choice, which was sadly, a poor way to repay the Ferengi barkeep's noble initial gesture. But the senior staff of the Enterprise did not have a choice either. There was only one true, viable clue that could lead to finding Beverly and all of the people and ships that had disappeared. Mr. Data and company had to follow the latinum banking trail. And Quark was the key.

Quark was now obliged to break one of the Ferengi most sacred codes – finding out the source of the credits that don't belong to you (if you don't intend to steal them, that is). Quark was forced into revealing Ferengi banking secrets and traditions that no one outside of Ferenginar even knew existed, though he was assured that such revelations would be kept amongst the Enterprise senior officers, and would never be mentioned in an official report.

Data quickly played accountant once Quark started being forthcoming, and the android actually became impressed with the Ferengi banking system and all of its extraordinarily Byzantine complications and rules.

Commander Data also apologized to Quark for having to deceive him in order to obtain this banking information. The android explained that four-hundred-and-thirty-two individuals were known to have disappeared. And that their lives were of paramount importance.

Quark grudgingly acknowledged that Data and company did have a point. But if Riker thought he was ever getting the money that Quark owed to him, the captain was sorely mistaken.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Wesley didn't wish to sleep. He felt that he was betraying his mother somehow, whenever he took time to close his eyes instead of working on how to rescue her. Fortunately, for Wesley, no one else had that attitude – especially Lwaxana.

It felt like he had barely nodded off, when he heard an insistent chiming in his quarters.

He wearily raised his head up a little bit off of his pillow. "Computer, identify incoming message." If the message or call was from someone unimportant, he was going to ignore it.

"Anna Picard is calling you," the voice of the computer announced.

With this, Wes crawled out of bed and stumbled over to his desk. He had thought that he'd been sleeping only a few minutes, but according to his desk chronometer, it had been almost five hours. Still he was groggy, but he figured that he was awake enough to talk to his sister.

"Wesley."

He could tell that something was bothering his little sister, even as he greeted her. "Hi, Anna. Hi, Billy Bob," for he had noticed his younger brother in the background too. Wesley then noticed the location of where the call was coming from, for the Starfleet terminals had different, formal codes than the family and general business terminals did. "Jean-Luc is letting you use his library terminal?" He was a bit surprised by this for the twins usually contacted him through the house or playroom terminals when they were turned on.

"Papa left the terminal open, so I am taking the chance. We need to talk to you."

Wesley automatically sensed that Anna was using the twinnies royal 'we' when she was really referencing herself, for it was something that she often did. "Anna," he chided, for he knew that Jean-Luc did not like the twins to use terminals without adult supervision.

"I want you to see what I've dreamed," she quickly explained, even as her twin brother kept look-out. "I've sent you my drawings."

"Anna." He could see that his sister was serious about what she was telling him. It clearly was of importance to her. "Drawings of what?"

"Star charts. I don't know from where. But Mama keeps dreaming of the skies. I started drawing them once I began seeing the stars through her eyes in my dreams."

Wesley froze. Anna had never before actually mentioned that she sensed that their mother was still alive. "You can sense that our mother is alive?"

"She was never dead, Wes. Even when she cut off all thought with Billy Bob and me. And everybody thought that she was gone, I still knew she was – somewhere." She waved a hand toward the terrace windows and the sky. "But, I don't know…"

Wesley suddenly was worried as visions of the possible ordeals that his mother might have endured, intruded into his thoughts.

As if sensing, what her brother was worried about something concerning their Mother, Anna quickly added, "I only sense Mama once in a while. She is far away from us, Wes. Very far."

Wes noted that he had received a series of sketches from his sister. "I've got the drawings, Anna."

"Maybe they will help find her," she nervously added.

"Everything helps," Wes quickly reassured his sister, though privately he didn't know what it was that Anna had sent him. Still, he'd examine them anyway.

"Papa's coming!" a warning whisper was heard in the background.

Wes just had to ask, "You never told your Papa about your dreams?"

"I knew Mama didn't want him to know," Anna whispered, as she moved to disconnect the call.

"No. Leave me on. I'll tell Jean-Luc that I called you!" Wesley quickly instructed.

"Wesley," a voice called out from the direction of the library door. Jean-Luc was pleasantly surprised at the sight of his step-son on the monitor.

As his step-father approached the desk, both Anna and Billy Bob decided that discretion might be the better part of valor, especially given the warning expression that they could see on their father's face. They both yelled out simultaneously, "Bye, Wes!" And then they scampered out of the room.

"They called you?" a slightly concerned Jean-Luc asked as he quickly noted the origination of the call on his desk screen.

Wesley chuckled. So much for trying to pull something over on his step-father even if it were for the good of his siblings. Shaking his head, Wesley explained, "Jean-Luc, my brother and sister know a lot more about a lot of things and how to do them, than you might think that they do." Wesley breathed, trying to collect his thoughts for he did not quite know exactly what to say next, without revealing too much.

"Was there a reason why they called you?" For Jean-Luc had a feeling, based on Wesley's body language, that something was up concerning the twins.

Wesley decided that a version of the truth might be the best bet. "Basically, they're missing our mother. Anna had a dream about her. And she wanted to talk to me about it."

Jean-Luc accepted this for Anna had seemingly had dreams before; Ryllis and Lwaxana had mentioned these dreams about Beverly to him in the past. Still, he had to ask, "And they didn't trust me enough to talk to me?"

"That's not it at all, Jean-Luc. They want me to check with the Traveler to see if there might be any truth to her dream."

"You've been in contact with the Traveler, recently?" For the Traveler was not a name that he had heard in quite a few years.

"About a year after Mom disappeared, he came to see me." Wesley reddened a bit as he realized that he'd neglected to tell Jean-Luc about this before. "We actually did go traveling together a bit, for a few months."

"And I never noticed you were gone?" an incredulous Jean-Luc asked. He knew that he had been lost in the depths of his grief at the time and not noticing much at all except for his children and his work at the Academy. He had been barely functioning by anyone's standards. Still, he could not believe that he had not noticed Wesley's absence.

"It was months by the Traveler's conception of time, Jean-Luc. That's not the same as what we know as the passage of time. I was only adventuring a couple of days, according to the Federation Standard Calendar. It happened right after I graduated from the Academy, when I went on shore leave."

"I see." Jean-Luc remembered attending Wesley's graduation, for, unsurprisingly, Wesley had been the valedictorian. And Jean-Luc had recognized at the time that he was the closest family that Wesley had which was why he forced himself to attend the ceremony. But the days and months after that were pretty much a blur in Jean-Luc's recollections.

Wesley could see that his step-father didn't. "Actually, it is because of the Traveler that I stayed in Starfleet, Jean-Luc. I was going to quit Starfleet after I graduated. The only reason as to why I stayed at the Academy and earned my degrees was because I knew that it was something that my Mom and Dad would have wanted me to do."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at this statement.

"Jean-Luc, I blamed Starfleet for Mom's disappearance. I really was at a loss as to what it was that I was going to do with my life. And then the Traveler showed up, and took me on a tour of the universe. The Traveler convinced me to stay in Starfleet and to become an official part of Admiral Wiley's staff. He said it was my destiny." Wesley grinned, knowing that he was confusing his step-father a bit, before adding, "For now. Eventually, I will get to go off and play 'mad scientist and crazy Scottish engineer' on board some galaxy class starship for a few years."

Jean-Luc just raised the other eyebrow. "Did you inform Holt of this occurrence?"

"No. Admiral Wiley would ask too many questions. And I didn't have enough answers to explain what really happened to me when I went off with the Traveler."

"Any answers that you can tell me, now?" For Jean-Luc was a bit curious as to the details of what touring the universe entailed.

"Well, I got to know the universe and perceptions of time, from a Traveler's temporal point of view. Anything else, I cannot tell you about until your time is right." Wesley grinned again, for he didn't have to see Jean-Luc's annoyance to know that his next words would aggravate the man. "Temporal prime directive, you know."

Jean-Luc silently shuddered at the use of those specific words.

Wesley glanced at his chronometer. "Jean-Luc, I've got to go now. I'm due on the bridge in an hour." He winced before adding, "And I have to attend a breakfast meeting with Lwaxana before I go on duty."

"So, Lwaxana is actually still doing diplomatic work on Ferenginar?" Jean-Luc was a bit surprised that she was still working on it, for he had to wonder what kind of situation could be taking up so much of the lady's time.

"The situation is more serious than you know, Jean-Luc. Ask Holt about it." Wesley paused for a moment as he considered what he could safely reveal to his step-father. "There are some rumors that the Romulans are mixed up in some incidents with what is going on, and Lwaxana is trying to verify them." The alarm on his nightstand started an annoying buzzing. "I've really got to go, Jean-Luc. Talk to you soon." And Wesley signed off from the connection.

Jean-Luc sat there quietly for a moment staring at the Starfleet logo that now glowed against a blue background on his screen.

He called out in a soft, but very clear and firm sounding voice, "Anna. Billy Bob. You can come in, now." For he did not doubt in the slightest that the twins were hiding behind the library door, eavesdropping.

The twins slowly walked up to their Papa's desk. "We are sorry, Papa." Anna sounded very contrite as she tried to look the part of a penitent child. Billy Bob wisely said nothing for Anna had a pretty good success rate of wheedling them out of just about any discipline that they might deserve.

"You couldn't see coming to me when you had this bad dream, Anna?"

Their Papa sounded as if his feelings were hurt.

"It was sort of a time traveling dream, Papa. I thought that Wesley might figure it out better than you," Anna admitted. "I would have come to you if Wesley thought that we had to."

Jean-Luc opened up his arms, and both children clambered onto his knees, and sat, hugging their papa. He cuddled them tightly against his chest, silently reassuring them over and over again about his feelings for them; about all the love that he possessed for his children.

A few minutes later, Kathryn walked into the library to see what was keeping her family from coming to the dinner table. She took in the scene, and a tear came to her eye, as she envisioned adding her daughter to such an embrace, one day in the future. For she was now a part of this family, too.

Jean-Luc caught her eye, and nodded, guessing why she had come.

Kathryn approached her husband and lightly kissed the top of his head. "We don't want to keep Ludvig waiting."

"Or Admiral Pulaski," Jean-Luc grumbled as he lightly shoved his children off of his legs.

"Auntie Kate is here?" Billy Bob excitedly cried even he scampered down the hallway toward the dining room crying her name all the way.

"Boys!" Anna grumbled as she walked with greater dignity than her brother, down the hallway with her step-mother, holding the lady's right hand. Jean-Luc held his daughter's left.

"Amen," Kathryn politely agreed with her step-daughter.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Data patiently listened to Wes as he explained the source of the drawings that were now scattered over his work station.

"I've uploaded the drawings to your computer as well," Wes explained. "Maybe my mother is really somehow communicating with Anna on a subconscious level. Maybe these are the stars that my mother sees, wherever she is."

Data inspected the eight drawings that Wesley had printed out for him. "Wesley, Anna does not know the visual order of these drawings?"

"No. I don't think so. I can call her and ask."

"If it becomes necessary, I will request it." Data examined the starry images. "There are eighty thousand, six hundred and forty possible combinations of these star drawings." Data paused for a moment before adding, "It will take the ship's computer approximately twelve point eight hours to run all the possible combinations and compare them against our astral cartography charts to see if we can find a location." Data considered things some more before remarking, "With your permission, and I will not explain to her the specific reason for this, I will contact Dr. Nella Darren and ask her to run a comparison as well. It is possible, with her work and experience as a stellar cartographer, that she may have access to charts with which I may not be familiar."

Wesley quickly nodded. "I've encountered Commander Darren at the UP on more than a few occasions, Data. I'm sure she will help."

"I will inform Captain Riker if there are any viable results from our search."

Wesley agreed. "There's no point in getting the captain's hopes up too soon."

TBC


	37. Just a Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the fun begins.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 37:

Just a Suggestion

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"A goat?" Jean-Luc tried his best not to sound irritated. It was not Mr. Murphy's fault that his vice-superintendent had to say that word out loud. "A hairless, twenty-one kilo goat?"

"Called a zic, Sir. Anyway, the Al Nitakan ambassador has issued a formal protest to the Federation Council," Michael Murphy wearily stated for he had been dealing with this problem for several days now. And only because the cantankerous ambassador had filed an official protest did he now have to tell his boss about it. He had been hoping to spare the superintendent such inconsequential problems. But thanks to the Nitakan ambassador, everything had been blown up out of considerable proportion to reality.

"Apparently, dyeing the goat chartreuse – which did not injure the animal, by the way - is considered to be a dreadful insult to the Al Nitakans. This actually means that it is considered to be a grievous insult by at least one of their major religions. A religion, incidentally, to which Cadet Al-Man does not belong, by the way..."

Jean-Luc glanced down at his padd, checking. "And Cadet Al-Man. Did he file a complaint as well?"

"Actually, no, Sir. Cadet Al-Man made a statement saying that the green goat incident had nothing to do with religious disrespect. And that it was payback for the prank that Cadet Al-Man had pulled on his roommate a few days earlier. I chose not to go into the gory details of those pranks, unless, for some bizarre reason, it becomes necessary."

Murphy reached for the mug of coffee that Jean-Luc usually ordered for him whenever they had to have a meeting in the superintendent's inner office. He took a sip. Michael Murphy had become very good at his job. He had reached an understanding as well as an excellent working relationship after almost seven years, with the superintendent. He'd also received a promotion. The only time Jean-Luc Picard had to meet with Mr. Murphy now, if it wasn't at a major staff meeting, was when there were serious problems. Otherwise, Vice-Superintendent Murphy handled the day-to-day running of the Academy, along with a rather large support staff.

Mr. Murphy mentioned, "The roommate, a Cadet Ojai, has admitted that he did it. He was the one who colored the goat lime green. Apparently green is considered an unlucky color by some of the Nitakans, though not by Cadet Al-Man."

Jean-Luc took a sip of the liquid from his cooling tea mug. "So, why is this ambassador involved in what is essentially a student prank?"

"Unofficially?"

Jean-Luc nodded.

"The Al Nitakans seem to think that we – meaning Starfleet and the Academy - are not treating their first cadet to enter the Academy, with the proper respect that Cadet Al-Man deserves."

"I see. Are we treating this cadet any differently from any other cadet, Michael?"

"No, Sir. And that is the real problem in the eyes of their ambassador."

Jean-Luc mentally groaned. "The Al-Nitakans can be a contentious people. Considering how many years it took, diplomatically speaking that is, for the Federation to persuade the Al Nitakans that it was not right to try to annex the Mintakan solar system without the planets' populations consent…"

"Well, I think that it was your defense of the Mintakan pre-warp societies on Mintaka III and IV, that just might have prejudiced the ambassador against you," Michael Murphy just had to mention. "The Al Nitakans had really coveted those potential dilithium deposits, not to mention quite a few other mineral assets that the planets had to offer."

Jean-Luc suspected that this was the real truth of the matter. The Nitakans had taken quite a bit of diplomatic strong-arm persuasion to finally relinquish their claims to Mintaka System, before they finally became eligible to become a probationary member of the Federation. A permanent membership was still pending and it was something which privately, Jean-Luc Picard thought would never be achieved unless there were massive societal changes.

"Any suggestions, Michael?"

"I can issue a formal apology, and state that the relationship that the cadet has with his goat, is a religious service right which will be protected at the Academy, in accordance with the cadet's religious beliefs; out of respect for Starfleet's acceptance of the diversity of all of our student's religious beliefs and customs, etc."

"You compose it, and I will sign it," Jean-Luc agreed, eyeing the holoportrait of the young cadet's green goat dressed in a Starfleet cadet's science uniform that had appeared on his padd. "Even if the cadet in question values having his pet with him, more than he might value his society's religious customs." Jean-Luc slightly smiled. "A lot of cadets have tried to bring their pets to the Academy dorms over the years. I do believe that Cadet Al-Man may be one of the few cadets to succeed in coming up with a legitimate enough reason for doing so. Service religious functionary, indeed. When things are a bit less hectic around here, I would like to personally meet with Cadet Al-Man."

"I'll make the arrangements before you go out on leave." Michael paused and finished off his coffee. "You know, some Nitakans take their religious beliefs very seriously. I understand from internal assessments of the Al Nitakan society, that religious squabbling between a rather wide selection of religions, is the norm on that planet. However, I do not believe that Cadet Al-Man is involved with any of that."

"Let us hope that Cadet Al-Man will embrace Starfleet and Federation philosophies with an unbiased heart."

Michael laughed. "He has, Sir. According to the cadet's counsellors, the cadet really wants to be a Starfleet science officer, and is excelling in all of the major disciplines." Michael leaned forward knowing that his boss would appreciate this, and conspiratorially whispered, "Rumor has it that some of the cadets have taken to calling his goat, 'Captain Zakarian'."

Jean-Luc almost snorted before admitting, "Well, there is a slight resemblance." For Jean-Luc could recall his own disagreements with Professor 'old goat' Zakarian from the current day back to when he had been a cadet, for this professor had been a thorn in the side of many a cadet over the decades, especially because of his strict adherence and belief in sticking to the survival course rule book, no matter what. If Jean-Luc had followed that philosophy whole heartedly, he would have died on a harsh L class planet, a long time ago. However, Jean-Luc did privately concede that one had to know the rule books backwards and forwards, before one got around to breaking them, which was the chief reason as to why Professor Zakarian was still on staff, and had not been retired.

Jean-Luc finished off his now cold cup of tea. "What's next?"

"Believe it or not, we are through." Michael stood and picked up the admiral's empty mug as well as his own and placed them both in the recycling receptacle. "We are all caught up."

"You have rarely said those words to me over the years, Michael."

Michael laughed. "Mildred brought in a few more of her friends as temporary support staff, especially since we are all anticipating the impending arrival of your daughter and your imminent departure on paternity leave."

"I will take that remark in the manner with which I hope it was intended," Jean-Luc dryly commented even as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his Aldebaran whiskey bottle. "Join me?"

Michael Murphy was no fool. It was a rare day when his boss was in this convivial of a mood. They weren't exactly friends, but they were on the same wavelength when it came to certain matters. They both accepted and respected each other because of their mutual dedication to Starfleet and the Academy. Not to mention both of them having a very fond attachment to a certain lady named Mildred. The tall, blondish man who was just about to turn sixty, smiled, accepting his superintendent's invitation.

Jean-Luc paused for a moment as he contemplated his liquor. "Michael, why don't you look into the feasibility of the Academy having at least one dorm in the future, that does accept pets, for other than religious or service animal reasons. I realize that there will have to be size restrictions, danger considerations, etc."

"I'll come up with something."

After the men, had drunk their first shot, Jean-Luc quietly asked, "Now, tell me about all of my myriad unofficial problems…"

"Believe it or not, there are not that many… The Number One complaint, as usual is about the food in the dorms whether it be cafeteria or replicator, followed by the very long waiting list for getting a dorm room in the Risian Proxima Quad. We haven't had a cadet get drunk or high in a while, so a report about such foolishness should be crossing my desk any day, now. Especially since we have a dance coming up. Speaking of which, the faculty recreational activities committee have re-re-revised rules of etiquette for the Sadie Hawkins's Day Dance…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"A goat? A green goat?" Kathryn laughed and laughed. After gasping for a breath, she shook her head. "And to think that I thought life in the Delta Quadrant had its unexpected moments." She handed him her tea cup for a refill since Jean-Luc was reclining on the sofa, closer to the teapot which was sitting on a cart, in the library.

Jean-Luc couldn't help but smile. He liked it when his wife laughed. She had such a wonderful sounding, throaty, attractive laugh. He refilled her cup as well as automatically adding a few more butter cookies on to the rim of the saucer, before he handed the ginger tea back to his wife. "One of these days I will have to tell you about the purple goat versus a Vulcan professor of exobiology incident in one of the labs…"

"Oh, no." She wagged her finger at him. "I think that you'd better tell me that tall tale, right now," she ordered with a grin. "For I have never encountered a purple goat in the Delta Quadrant – or anywhere else for that matter."

And Jean-Luc related that incident as well.

"What is it about Starfleet Cadets and their goats?" Kathryn just had to ask with a chuckle when her husband was finished. "I mean that they are nice animals…"

"Dogs were too mundane?" he suggested. For that remark, Kathryn put down her tea cup, and swatted her husband with a pillow.

Jean-Luc thought about retaliating.

The children were in bed. Gretchen had gone back to Indiana for a few days. Dr. Pulaski was on duty at Starfleet Medical. And as near as Jean-Luc could tell, there was no one else lurking about the family side of the house, other than those who actually belonged there.

In spite of it being Picard House which at times he had likened to a hotel, Jean-Luc could actually reflect upon the fact that he might actually be considered to be home alone with his wife.

Kathryn may have been pondering this unusual situation too, for she picked up the throw pillow again, and threatened her husband.

"Computer, privacy lock," Jean-Luc ordered for he had a suspicion as to where their activities might be leading.

She paused in mid-swat. "Jean-Luc, don't you know by now that whenever we are by ourselves in any room of this house, there is an automatic privacy lock on the door?"

He blushed a little. "I knew that." But he had forgotten.

She nodded in disbelief, even as she put down her pillow. "Old habits die hard?"

He ruefully admitted, "Something like that."

"Hold the thought," she teased as she stood and pulled the tea cart closer to her side of the sofa. "I think that I need to fortify myself," she remarked as she picked up a Georgian silver spoon and an individual blueberry compote, eyeing the dessert with desire, too.

There was companiable silence for a while, as Kathryn ate her dessert.

Jean-Luc stretched a bit before he studied his wife.

Aware of his inspection, Kathryn asked, "What?"

"How do you really feel about what is occurring?" He didn't really have to specify as to what since there were so many things happening all at once.

"I take it that you mean Chakotay and Kol?" He nodded. "I am not really sure." Kathryn finished off her snack. "On one hand, I am overwhelmed by just about everything. I never believed that I would be pregnant at my age, for example. And emotionally, I am not exactly prepared for it, though I am working on it. Also, for someone who is supposed to be on maternity leave, I have never felt so busy. And no, I am not comparing any of these situations to the Borg, and what I faced in the Delta Quadrant. I never could stop having to do, there. But here," she shrugged her shoulders, "I feel like I should be getting ready for the baby, and instead, it seems as if I am doing just about anything and everything but that. And yes, I know, between my mother and Ryllis, everything that should be done so far, has been done. But still..."

"That is one of the main reasons as to why I want Chakotay to come here. To give you a chance to rest." He glanced around the room. "At least here, at home, you have a nearby support staff and friends and family to help."

Kathryn inspected her husband this time. "And is that the real reason as to why you're asking?"

He deliberately refilled his tea cup, before returning his wife's look. "Meaning?"

"I'm sure that there are any number of friends who have said something behind your back about the wisdom of a divorced so-he-is-now-free Chakotay and myself residing under the same roof or rooves, so to speak, since Chakotay will be in a guest house – a nearby guest house where if my memory serves me accurately, we used to use for our personal rendezvous as well."

He wasn't going to lie to her. "I have considered that possibility. I'd be a fool not to have done so."

"And?"

"I trust you, Kathryn."

She sent him a minor glare of disbelief.

He tried to explain his rationale. "Even if such a rumored event should occur, I would prefer not to deal with it until that bridge is actually crossed."

She seriously considered smashing him with her throw pillow, and it would not be totally with good humor either.

He leaned forward and grasped her hand and looked into her eyes, hoping to adequately explain himself to her. "I truly do trust you, Kathryn. But if there is a momentary lapse, that is something on an intellectual level that I would understand. However, if it is a serious incident, then, I do trust you to tell me, and we will proceed from there about how to do what is best for us and our family."

She noted that he said nothing about his emotional state. "You sound so reasonable." She made that sentence sound like it was anything but reasonable.

"That is exactly what I am trying to be, Kathryn. I have learned that true love is one of the greatest gifts that the universe can bestow upon us mere mortals. I would like to think that I would not forcibly deny it for you, if it comes to that." He carefully considered his next words. "I have known two great loves in my life, so far, Kathryn. And emotionally, I feel as if you are becoming the third. Certainly, you are very dear to me."

Kathryn blinked at this pronouncement, for in truth, she had been feeling something similar toward her husband as well.

He still understood why she was confused by his words, so he explained, "You know about Beverly. But, there was someone else. Now I think that it is time that I told you about Eline…"

And so, she listened to her husband talk. She understood what he was saying even if she was occasionally distracted by the way he spoke.

"A true life out of time," she finally commented, "where you were free from all our current modern-day strife and angsts."

"In many ways, my life as Kamen was exactly that. It was, to phrase it bluntly, an escape from the onerous duties of being a Starfleet officer. Of course, I had to deal with the destruction of my world and my family."

"And you still miss them."

"Yes. In some way, every day."

Deciding that it was time to drink something a bit stronger, he went to the antique cellarette hidden within a free-standing globe of the world, unlocked it and then poured himself a Saurian brandy adding a little bit of seltzer water into the lowball glass. Then he poured a small sherry glass full of brandy as well.

Kathryn did not demure when she accepted the small goblet from her husband.

"It's time for some truths, I see," was all that she remarked.

"Kathryn if you are weary…"

She shook her head as she watched him sit back down on the sofa. "No. We need to discuss this." She took a tiny sip of brandy, momentarily admired the quality of the liquor, and then placed the goblet on a table. "Jean-Luc, I love Chakotay. I always will. You've known this since our very first night together."

"Yes, I have."

"But I also love our life here together. It is unexpected. I never thought that my life would take the turn down the path that it has. But, I find that I really like my life here with you. At times, I revel in being your wife. I adore the twins. And I am coming to appreciate the advantages of being an admiral, much to my surprise.

"Yes, I was somewhat surprised by that aspect as well," Jean-Luc admitted.

She continued. "I don't want to do anything to spoil any of this. As for Chakotay," she took another small sip of her drink, "I know him well enough to know that by the time he copes with his wife's desertion, the birth of his son not to mention physically recuperating, he is not going to have the inclination for anything else. Chakotay can be somewhat introspective, and he will need time to adjust and reflect upon everything that has happened."

Jean-Luc chuckled, shaking his head in denial of her words. "Kathryn, Chakotay is a man in every sense. Trust me, his feelings for you will emerge now and then, regardless of whether or not he is recuperating or contemplative or whatever."

"Thanks, I think."

"You know you are a true, unforgettable woman, my dear. I never forgot the remarkable young woman that I met so many years ago. You made an indelible impression then." He smiled, and patted her thigh. "And here we are."

"That still doesn't solve our problems," she sighed as she took the third and final sip of her brandy.

"Put down the glass, Kathryn."

"What?"

"I have been considering a solution to our problem and I would rather you not have anything in your hands before I tell it to you. I've even conversed with my personal lawyer Roland Hand, about our situation, though we are in the preliminary discussions about the matter for now."

She put down her goblet, and eyed him, her intuition not quite believing what it was telling her brain. "Maybe I should have a little more brandy."

He really unnerved her when instead of denying her request, he poured a little bit of his drink into hers.

"Jean-Luc, now you are making me nervous." But being a somewhat contrary person on occasion, she was still clutching her little sherry glass even as her husband was about to say something.

He took a very deep breath before saying, "Kathryn, would you consider the possibility of a legal, three-party marriage?"

She chugged her brandy, put the glass down, and then gaped in shock at Jean-Luc Picard.

Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway-Picard had most definitely not considered this possibility at all.

TBC


	38. Negotiating One's Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc and Kathryn have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Well, even as the evil little plot bunny possessed my writings in the previous chapter, I just could not leave my dear readers dangling too much, now could I? There will be a lot more fun in this regard, in future chapters, for it was a plot line that I just could not resist.
> 
> I also know that this chapter is a bit longer than most of the other chapters, but it is a pivotal chapter toward what is to come. For we are finally entering the end game of this novel. And then, after that will come the novel, "Reattached: Beverly: Her Story".

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 38:

Negotiating One's Options

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The next morning, Jean-Luc arrived early at his office. He was rather surprised to encounter Commander Nella Daren with two duffle bags at her feet, standing in his outer office, conversing with one of his interns (who also had just earned 'brownie' points in Jean-Luc's eyes for coming in early too.)

"Nella, my dear. What a pleasant surprise." He embraced her and kissed her cheek in spite of the presence of an inquisitive pair of eyes. He turned toward the intern. "Two coffees. One black. And one with double cream," he glanced at the commander, "if I remember correctly."

Nella laughed as he escorted her into his inner sanctum. "You do remember correctly, indeed, kind sir."

He led her over to the small Starfleet blue upholstered settee and matching armchair by a low table in the corner of the room. After they were seated, he asked, "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"My husband is surprisingly, according to his original plans, now going to be at Starbase Earhart for a week. He designed an avian sculpture for some admiral and is supervising its installation somewhat ahead of the original schedule – not that I am complaining about that. So, I'm going out to meet him on the next ship to Earhart which leaves in about ninety minutes," she rapidly explained, even as both of them silently acknowledged the dark-haired Betazed teenage cadet who had silently brought in their coffees, and then departed, moving with a grace that seemed typical of many Betazed females. "And thank you for the wedding gift by the way. You didn't have to give me an antique reproduction of a Greek astrolabe," she mildly protested.

"I was happy for you, Nella. You know that I'll always think of you as a dear friend," Jean-Luc replied, with a smile in his eyes, for he meant every word that he was saying.

"And I, you," she softly answered.

For a moment, they were both lost in their shared memories.

He stirred, and in a more conversational tone of voice added, "Besides, I knew that any man who married you would just have to appreciate your love of the stars. It's a 19th century reproduction of the original, by the way," he just had to mention.

"I'd noticed," she lightly remarked, as her eyes said volumes about how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

After another long moment, Nella drank some coffee and pulled herself together. "But I've got to go very soon. So, let me tell you why I am here." She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a chip and placed it on the table. "Commander Data and Commander Crusher have both requested my help in identifying the locations of some star charts that they have discovered. It wasn't until I accessed some of the newly acquired Borg charts that came from Voyager, that I found some clues as to the locations of the stars for which they are searching. Tell Commander Data that I did not get a chance to convert the Borg chart data over into Starfleet's version of the charts that he wanted identified. He is going to have to do the translation. If Data is not able to do so, then I will be back at the UP in eight days and can do so, then."

"You couldn't contact Commander Crusher and Commander Data directly?"

"Some sort of massive ion storm was disrupting live communications with Ferenginar. And since I didn't have the time to wait for it to clear up, I thought about giving the data chip to you, for you to send to the Enterprise. I think that it's a pretty good bet that an admiral's communiques will be given a greater priority than those of a commander, considering that there is probably quite a back log of communiques already, especially from businesses." She added for Jean-Luc's benefit, "I did get the impression that Commander Crusher thought that the information was of some importance, though I don't know the reason as to why."

"Yet," Jean-Luc added, sotto-voce.

Her laugh sounded genuine, as if it were colored with now-fond remembrances. "I was only too-inquisitive the once," she argued, glaring at him as if to emphasize her point.

"As I recall, according to Will Riker, your 'once' was at least once during every duty shift," he teased.

"You always took Will Riker's word over mine," she dryly observed.

"And with good reason," he countered. "Will was right."

They both laughed together.

"I will see that Wes and Data get this," he agreed as he picked up the chip and reached over to place it on his desk.

"Wes?" She had not placed the name.

"Commander Crusher is my step-son," he explained.

"Oh. I had not realized. I have met Commander Crusher on occasion, because of his work at the UP with Leah Brahms." She sipped some coffee. "So, he is Beverly's son. I don't recall ever meeting your step-son when I was on board your ship. I know that I would have remembered."

"Wes was at the Academy during your rotation on board the Enterprise. I can remember Wesley writing a paper about the Bersalis firestorm incident. He was somewhat impressed with your solution. Wes always has appreciated unique solutions to life and death situations."

"Sounds like Commander Crusher." Rising, her glance was rather fond as she took a few seconds to inspect her former lover. She decided that she liked what she saw. "Your new marriage seems to be doing you some good. You're smiling like you actually mean it. If Kathryn doesn't object, let us have dinner with our spouses, when I get back. I would like to meet the woman that makes you really smile."

"Thank you. I think that I am a very fortunate man to have Kathryn in my life. I feel as if I am experiencing a real life again," he explained. "But all my social arrangements are dependent upon whatever condition and mood my wife is in at the moment." On Nella's puzzled expression, he explained, "Kathryn is out on maternity leave about to enter the last trimester of her pregnancy."

"Oh. Congratulations. And she does make you happy," Nella concluded, judging by the expression on Jean-Luc's face and his overall general demeanor.

"On occasion, Kathryn does make me happy, indeed."

"So, does my Bardy," Nella just had to add, since she didn't want Jean-Luc to think that he had cornered the market on having a good marriage.

Jean-Luc froze just as he was about to stand to escort Nella out of his office. "Bardy? As in Bardic Jones, the sculptor?" He sheepishly admitted, "I must admit I didn't pay that much attention to your wedding announcement."

"You know of him?" Nella laughed. "Of course, you do. You are an admiral now. Sooner or later you're going to be wanting a Vulcan vulture in your outer office or a Centauri carrion winged dragon to adorn your front yard."

"No, I think my artistic taste leans toward more Classical archaeology, though a dragon sculpture in my maze might not be that bad of an idea. My twins would like it." He smiled as he recollected some dear memories. "Actually, a dear friend of mine was once a good friend of your Bardy."

Jean-Luc's sad smile of remembrance told Nella that this friend was no longer amongst the living.

She quickly put two and two together. "Tasha Yar, Bardy's old classmate," Nella said in a low voice. "Bardic told me all about her and how she chose the Enterprise over him. My husband still remembers Tasha rather fondly." She stood and reached over to squeeze Jean-Luc's shoulder. "She must have been an extraordinary woman as well as an officer."

"And a very dear friend whom I have missed," Jean-Luc quietly agreed. "Did you know that Bardy's sister is on my staff? She's married to a Vulcan named S'Rock…"

"Yes, I've been bowled over by the astonishing possibility that a Vulcan is in love with his human wife. And when I am around Cherry, she never stops talking about you or somebody named Mildred. Then, I actually got conned by Cherry into saying that they could come and travel with us when we go to Italy in a couple of months.

"That's sounds like Cherry." he chuckled. "The lady is not shy." He stood and then escorted Nella to his outer office. He kissed her cheek again. "Have a safe trip, Nella."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn sat there in the library, and replayed the conversation that she had had with her husband, over and over again in her mind. After Jean-Luc had made his bombshell announcement, Kathryn had politely informed her husband that she needed time to think. And that she was going to go to bed. And that they would discuss everything, later on. She'd been adamant. And Jean-Luc had been wise enough not to push her even as they readied themselves for bed.

So now, she sat there on the leather upholstered sofa, sipping a white leaf tea flavored with apricot and vanilla, trying to logically think herself through this quagmire. For every argument to which she found a counterargument, another even greater debate point could be made.

Even though she knew that Starfleet had no legal objections to multiple party marriages for they were legal throughout the Federation, she had never, ever considered such a possibility for herself – much less could she imagine that Jean-Luc would even suggest such a Denobulan style marriage arrangement for themselves. Yet, he had. And though, such marriages were more common in the lower ranks of Starfleet, rather than for those in the upper stratum, she was still having difficulty grasping the idea that a three-person marriage could be a solution. Normally, three-party marriages were limited term contracts of two or three years. She didn't think that this was what Jean-Luc was suggesting.

Kathryn wasn't that surprised when the library door slid open, and Jean-Luc entered, pushing a three-tiered tea cart loaded with teapots and a variety of food including tiny sandwiches, individual pastries and fresh fruit.

"I ate lunch less than three hours ago," Kathryn remarked as she eyed the cart which looked like it was displaying enough tempting dishes to feed an impromptu soiree.

"I didn't. But, if one can ever follow Ludvig's logic, that would mean that he thinks that you are peckish now," Jean-Luc lightly spoke as he positioned the cart near his wife's position on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The holographic fire was glowing. And the library doors were open to let in the late afternoon breezes from off of the ocean.

"I take it that you've been considering my suggestion?" He tried to sound completely in control of his emotions, but Kathryn sensed better. Whenever he was at his most polite was when his internal thoughts and feelings were really in a roil.

She was perfectly willing to admit her confusion. "I've thought of nothing but, Jean-Luc. I must admit that I was truly shocked when you proposed it."

He sat down on the sofa next to his wife, grasping her hand. "It is the only honorable solution for both of us that I could possibly consider. If you have a different suggestion, I would appreciate learning about it." He silently prayed that she would not say the word 'divorce' out loud.

She spoke as if such a thought of divorce had never entered her mind. "I'm not the type to really have an affair, Jean-Luc," she quietly remarked as she looked into her husband's eyes. "I don't think that I'd be too good at it. You'd probably know about it the moment I saw you after the indiscretion." She ruefully sighed. "And Chakotay, well, he'd probably succumb to his desires and then forever beat himself up about it, afterwards. And it would be quite a beating too, since on board Voyager he was now and then known as a boxer called the 'Maquis Mauler'." She then nodded as if seeing an answer to her question in her husband's eyes. "And you – you would suffer in silence, and not say anything to me until I actually confessed my betrayal."

"Love is a powerful universal force, Kathryn. I would step aside, if I needed to do so."

She was somewhat overwhelmed by his magnanimity and what it implied. She had to disabuse him of such a notion. "You are right. Love is a powerful force. Therefore, I don't want you to do anything foolish. You don't have to be so generous, you know. You do have a right to be selfish."

For a while they were silent.

Finally, he spoke. "That is why I have been investigating the possibility of a three-party marriage, Kathryn. I don't wish to lose you. Granted, most people who marry in such a manner, usually have one or more spouses on deep space assignment."

"And I have never heard of anyone in the upper ranks have such a marriage out in the open," Kathryn observed.

"Actually, you're wrong about that. Except that in certain admiralty circles, the arrangement is described behind closed doors, as an admiral, a wife and a mistress - or vice versa with a boy toy, rather than as a multi-partner marriage."

She could only nod in agreement with the accuracy of that description. Even when she'd been a child and had eavesdropped on her parent's conversations, the rare times that her father was home, she had quickly come to realize the significance of her father describing another admiral's assistant as a 'personal' assistant. And her mother's occasional snort over such a description. She hadn't known what it meant back then. But she did by the time she had become a cadet.

"Though, if we agree to do this, I would prefer to keep our arrangement as private as possible. I am sure that sooner or later the gossips will discover it, but until then, I feel as if there is no reason to be obvious, Kathryn."

Quite a few long moments passed before she finally pulled herself together enough to logically examine what her husband had explained.

"Why would you consider this solution, Jean-Luc? What would you gain?"

"Amongst other reasons, it would give all of our children, legal protection."

This was not the reason that Kathryn had been expecting. "Meaning?"

"Even after Chakotay recovers, if he goes back out on deep space assignment, his son will need a guardian. If you are legally the child's step-mother, we could avoid quite a few complications about legalities if anything should ever happen to Chakotay."

"But what about Annika, Jean-Luc?"

"I believe that it will be a very long time before she is capable of being a mother – a good mother – if ever."

Kathryn accepted his words, for she knew Seven well enough to know that there would be difficulties with the former drone actually becoming a nurturing mother. "And in the meantime, Kol is going to need a real family to ground him. People who will love him, unconditionally. A family collective who will support him." Kathryn considered something else. "For if Annika is still seeking perfection, she is not going to find that in her human son."

"Realistically, I think that it is going to take years for Annika to overcome the psychological damage that being a Borg has done to her. At least, when it comes to taking care of a baby. Seven's relationship with Icheb began after that boy had become a teenager whose life was already fairly well formed from his experiences."

"Chakotay should have never married her," Kathryn observed. The moment her words were uttered, an odd expression crossed over his face. She knew that she had hurt her husband, unintentionally. "I didn't mean it to come out sounding quite like what you are thinking. Of course, I was hurt that he had not wanted me and had chosen someone else. But what I am upset about is that he didn't see how really fragile emotionally, Annika was."

Jean-Luc poured themselves both a cup of tea, placed the cup in front of his wife on the low butler's table, and then quietly asked, "Did you see it, Kathryn?"

"What?"

"Did you counsel Annika about the marriage being ill-advised? Or did you automatically sacrifice yourself by stepping aside, because you only thought of what Chakotay wanted, and not what effect it might have on Annika?"

For a long moment, Kathryn could not speak. She had to force herself not to yell at her husband for daring to suggest such a thing. Yet, she also knew it was the truth. For Jean-Luc's words had hit home. She really hadn't considered matters from the point of view of what was best for Annika.

When she calmed a bit, she admitted, "You're right, Jean-Luc. I made a mess of things."

"No, you didn't. Chakotay made a mess of things. Though, I sincerely doubt that he will be the only man ever to do so over Annika."

"I hope she finds a reliable Vulcan," Kathryn mumbled.

Jean-Luc smiled at this. "Right now, Vulcan Kohlinar disciplines in any form, would probably do Annika a universe of good." He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer to him. "Now, what about us? And Chakotay?"

"You still haven't really answered my initial question, Jean-Luc. What do you gain from this arrangement?" She finished her cup of tea, placing it carefully back on its saucer, before she stared back at him again. "I know that you are an altruistic man, but to be this noble? This generous? I cannot quite accept it."

He handed her his tea cup and saucer to be re-filled, took a sip when he got it back, and then placed it on the tea table before answering her.

"I just wish for you to be happy, Kathryn. That is all. I have already lost two wives that I have dearly loved. I do not think that I could cope with losing the third."

She shook her head in denial. If Chakotay had said it, she would have believed him. But Jean-Luc?

"And then there are Anna and Billy Bob as well as our daughter-to-be," he tentatively mentioned.

"How so?"

"If something should happen to me, and considering our age difference, that is not an impossibility, you, as their guardian along with Chakotay, would be acceptable to me. All my children would be in protective and loving hands."

"What about Robert and Marie?" Kathryn protested, for they were the most logical choice at least, for guardians of the twins.

"Robert is almost ten years older than me. And though I implicitly trust my brother and sister-in-law, neither one of them could really cope with a baby as well as the vagaries of Starfleet, much less the stress of having a rambunctious Billy Bob turning into a space cadet. My son will not be inclined to pick grapes." He took another sip of tea. "And then there is Anna. She is a unique child, and is going to need special guidance for her unconventional nature which is something that I do not think Robert is completely capable of doing. He is too much of a hidebound traditionalist to even conceive of the options that might be open to Anna. Marie probably could cope, but even she has too conservative of a background to really comprehend all of what Anna might need. Plus, I shudder to think of what Q might do to Robert if Q gets annoyed by someone who is more obstinate than him."

Kathryn silently filed away the question as to why Jean-Luc didn't think that his daughter would ever join Starfleet for another conversation.

"And Wesley?" she countered. "No one could possibly object to him becoming the guardian of his brother and sisters."

"Wesley is a genius, a true scientist, and an explorer at heart. It would not surprise me if he chose deep space science missions in the future. However, I would not wish for Wesley to have to decline such offers because he is under the constraint of being the guardian to his brother and sisters. Oh, he will always be their big brother and he will look out for them on a permanent basis. But Wesley has to have a life of his own, too." Jean-Luc finished off a finger sandwich before adding, "Wesley has spent the past six years mourning and being focused on trying to discover whatever happened to his mother. He has to come to terms with the past in order to have a future. But, if Billy Bob and Anna become part of his life circumstances, Wesley might spend most of his future being forced to cope with other people's needs – even if he loves them – instead of his own desires. Besides, he might never escape away from being under Holt's thumb if he sticks around San Francisco for too long."

These reasons Kathryn could readily understand. And she did not disagree with her husband's assessment. "And you would readily trust Chakotay with your son and daughters? You barely know the man."

"Ah, Kathryn, but I know you. And that is sufficient enough for me. Besides, I am getting to know Chakotay's character better. A man who had chosen honor and duty over blindly accepting and following Starfleet's orders, is a man who should be guiding children – especially 'Fleeter children who need to learn that in spite of all the good that Starfleet does, it does not necessarily have the moral or ethical high ground as an answer for every situation that might occur in life."

That was all that he said, and Kathryn decided that if this reasoning was sufficient for Jean-Luc Picard, then she would have to accept it too.

All the rational arguments had been discussed. Now, the illogical arguments had to be argued, before she would even think of agreeing to Jean-Luc's suggestion.

She was quiet for some time, eating whatever delicacy took her fancy, and sipping her tea. Then she put her silver spoon down, placed the cup and saucer back on the cart, and moved closer to her husband.

Finally speaking, Kathryn pulled back from Jean-Luc's comfy shoulder, just a little bit, to look at her husband, squarely in the face. "You're going to have to be the one to discuss this with Chakotay. I really cannot do it. I wouldn't know what to say. Knowing Chakotay, he'll assume the worst if I just blithely go into his room and suggest that he should marry the both of us. Or is it just the one of us?"

"I don't actually know but I will find out the specifics from Roland."

"And Chakotay will really have to be well on his way to recuperating before we even give him a hint about such a possibility." She lowered her head again, against her husband's shoulder. "What if the twins decide to dislike Chakotay? That would seriously complicate matters."

"There's always boarding school," he mildly suggested. "Or, they could make his life hell," he teased. "Actually, Anna has told me that she thinks that Captain Chakotay is cute. And all Billy Bob would desire is that the man tell him even more stories about life on board Voyager. Or, better yet, tall tales about the Maquis."

She elbowed his ribs before settling down again. And then she decided that now was the time to change the subject. "And so, Jean-Luc. Just exactly how would we do it?" She really didn't think that she needed to specify what 'it' was. "I mean, do you toss a coin with Chakotay over who sleeps in what bed, or plan some sort of an elaborate rotation schedule. Or, would you just let me pick depending upon my mood? What do you propose?"

"I presume you are referring to our joint sleeping arrangements?"

This time she swatted him before leaning against him again.

"My first thought was that you should be the one to make such decisions as to who sleeps with whom." His grin was suggestive as he then casually added, "Or we could just keep it simple and have all three of us in one bed at the same time…"

He ducked before her blow hit him, even as he heard her laughter.

She agreed. "That would almost be worth considering doing, especially if we can both be around to see Alynna Nechayev's face when she finds out about it…"

Kathryn refilled her tea cup and drank for a while before she hesitated and then bravely asked, "Jean-Luc had you ever been involved with a, um, three-way?"

She thought that his cheeks flushed a bit. "Twice when I was a randy, drunk cadet. With two women if I recall the vague incidents correctly." He sipped his tea before continuing. "I don't remember too much about those episodes. And I most certainly never cared to repeat them." He put down his cup. "And you? Have you ever experimented with two other lovers at the same time?"

"Well, both of my two former fiancées accused me of being in bed with Starfleet first and then with them second, and in that order too, on more than one occasion," she finally remarked, with the mere thought of that suggestion still bothering her after all these years.

"Kathryn, I don't think that that technically qualifies as a three-way." He thought for a moment before he added, "Though emotionally, there may be some validity to it. Lord knows, on the rare occasion, whenever I was romantically involved with anyone as a captain – civilian or Starfleet - I inevitably ended up choosing my ship over my lover."

"What a duty-bound pair of captains we were," Kathryn sighed.

"We were Starfleet captains, Kathryn. We were married to the big chair. And especially considering what you underwent, you were by far more devoutly loyal of a Starfleet captain than I ever was."

"My choice was not necessarily the correct decision," Kathryn commented with more than a touch of irony. "Jean-Luc, let us learn about all of our options from Mr. Hand. Let us thoroughly investigate everything there is about such three-partner marriages for we will be making a momentous decision if and when the time comes. And then if we do decide to proceed, I will want to discuss this matter with Chakotay having all of the facts. Any way we do it, it will be a major change for all of us if we decide to go ahead with such a marriage arrangement."

For a while, they said nothing more, as each took comfort in the close presence of the other. Kathryn was finding that she was coming to appreciate such supportive moments, more and more. Finally, she whispered, "And what if I love Chakotay more than I love you?"

"I already live with that knowledge, my dear. For I loved Beverly which my heart and soul too, Kathryn. But, as long as you love me in some manner, now, Kathryn, and are happy with your decision, I think I could live with that. I truly do like having you in my life, my dear. I do not want to lose you."

They quietly sat, listening to the sounds from the garden as well as the glorious sounds of two Chopin Nocturnes and then a Valse, being played in the distance; the notes floating on a breeze.

Kathryn stirred again to help herself to some moon red berries with crème fraiche.

Jean-Luc just had to ask as he considered someone else. "And what of your mother? If she objects, it could be a major obstacle."

"I don't actually know. I think that my Mother would be accepting if she thought that it was something that I truly desired, though she might disapprove a bit. I must admit that I have never discussed this topic with her." She ate about half of her ramekin's contents before adding, "It is Phoebe that we should really worry about once she finds out about the possibility of a three-party marriage."

With some trepidation, he just had to ask her to clarify, "Why?"

"Unleashing a defensive Phoebe on a holy mission to convince Starfleet Command that our solution of a three-way marriage is a really good idea? And that everyone really should be doing it as well rather than having their mistresses on the side? Like she imagines what we will be doing as soon as Chakotay joins us and we all get the opportunity to do what Phoebe is envisaging?"

Jean-Luc had a sudden, mental image of a contentious Phoebe arguing her support about unconventional sexual freedom in a marriage with Starfleet's upper echelon of admirals at a cocktail party. And the confrontation that would be the inevitable result. Such an encounter would be simultaneously disastrous as well as amusing. And might be worth it.

Jean-Luc immediately thought of the two people in Starfleet who would unconditionally support Phoebe, which would thereby mean that Kathryn and Jean-Luc would have their backing as well. "I think that Winston Holt Wiley and Lwaxana would probably wholeheartedly agree with our choices and defend them…"

Kathryn couldn't disagree with that statement for it was the truth. Heck, they both would probably side with Phoebe in such an argument.

She tried not to think about what Tom Paris would say once he learned about it…

TBC

=/\= =/\= =/\=


	39. Circling the Wagons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are being made. And Kathryn recieves some disturbing news.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 39: Circling the Wagons

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred could not fathom how she could have made such a mistake; how she could have been so distracted. And more importantly, how could she have made such a major tactical oversight error, for if there was anything about herself in which she took pride, it was her for her tactical abilities and foresight. Somehow, she'd been so caught up with all the little crises that had been happening, that she had neglected to cast an eye over the big picture. Even as she beamed over to the Picard House security offices, she prayed that she was not too late.

"Lieutenant Reynolds," she called out as she stepped toward the security office located in the main part of the house.

Lieutenant Michael Ayala raised an eyebrow as he realized how agitated this normally unflappable lady was. Standing away from his desk, he stepped over to the inner door of the ground floor office, and held it open for Mrs. Krebs – for only certain parts of Picard House had been remodeled with the silent sliding doors of the future.

"Lieutenant Reynolds is at the Asimov Command Center for a meeting, Mrs. Krebs. May I help you?" Michael Ayala politely asked.

She sat down in the nearest chair and got straight to the point. "Lieutenant Ayala, after the shuttle crash that injured Captain Chakotay, were there any security changes that were made here at Picard House? I couldn't find any information about upgrades on my padds."

"As far as I know, other than doubling the perimeter checks every hour, nothing more was done. However, I am glad that you came for a checkup on our protocols." The lieutenant merely offered the lady a polite smile as he suggested, "Let's go for a walk over to the big nursery. There is a situation there that you should be able to handle."

Puzzled, she was about to protest, when she observed the slight hand signal that he sent in her direction. Though Mildred did not know what all of the hand signals meant, she instantly recognized this particular movement as something that the Maquis as well as Section 31 used on occasion when saying things out loud was not advisable. And that this motion was meant as an instruction to indulge in chit chat and speak of nothing of importance.

Nodding slightly in agreement, she continued the conversation. "I haven't been to the household nursery in quite a while. At least not since Q had placed his favorite fairy tale murals on the walls which was before your time. As you can imagine, they were not exactly appropriate for toddlers – of any species. A little too much blood in some instances."

"I heard that they were a bit obscene, too."

"Well, Winston Holt Wiley really liked them which is a clue as to was why Beverly Picard had them removed immediately. But those days are long gone… However, I did get to decide what color of paint could adequately cover Q's attempt at creating a masterpiece."

"In case you didn't know, Admiral Janeway's kid sister Phoebe has painted some new storybook murals based on various culture's space stories. The kids seem to like the different planets. The admiral's kid sister really is something else."

"Well, it sounds like it is time that I check them out."

Mildred agreed to following this officer's lead so she stood, and brushed off some imaginary lint from her misty grey skirt. When she straightened, she calmly asked, "I am assuming that the upgrades to the nursery are close to being finished? We are going to be getting a few more daily customers coming in, pretty soon."

Even as Ayala opened the door to escort the lady out onto the garden walkway that led to the nursery on the other side of the family compound, he explained, "They are almost done. But there are some things that you should inspect." With that remark, they walked outside for a few meters along the flagstone pathways before Mildred's eyes widened. For Lieutenant Ayala, had discretely pulled out a small perimeter scrambler shield, attached it to his com badge and turned it on.

"We can talk now," he remarked as they wandered up to a small courtyard fountain. Standing next to Mildred, he bent over and picked a small container, shaking a bit of its crumbled contents over the lower basin of water. "Fish food," he explained as a couple of the large golden koi with white mottling, made an appearance, rippling the surface of the water, their mouths repeatedly gaping open to suction in whatever morsel that they could find.

Mildred ignored the fish. "What's going on?"

"Security is assuming that we are under unauthorized monitoring." He shook the container again before placing it on the ground. "How, whoever it is, is doing it, we don't know yet. But we will find out." Then, he grinned. "By the way, thanks for coming in this morning. Some of us were wondering as to how long it would take for you to realize that there were some pressing issues that you might not have noticed that needed to be discussed, until now." He motioned for the lady to sit on the wide ledge of the fountain. "We started preparing for actual catastrophic eventualities about an hour after we were notified of Captain Chakotay's shuttle crash."

"And when the cloaked ship was attacking Utopia Planetia...?"

"Once we realized what had happened there, the Voyagers really got a move on. Lieutenant Reynolds immediately started to shore up all defense plans related to the admirals. And then we called a Maquis tactics meeting."

"Meaning?" for Mildred wasn't quite sure what Ayala meant.

"It was apparent that the enemy was not playing by the book. So, Lieutenant Reynolds, Commander Worf as well as myself thought that we should mount a defense that was not by the rule book, too. There is a reason for all this secrecy. We discovered that somebody has been tapping into Starfleet communications. They are doing it here at Picard House and probably elsewhere. We're being spied upon, and as near as we can tell, it is comm badge communications, computer networks and telecommunications that have been compromised."

Mildred took a deep breath. In theory, such intrusions were supposed to be impossible, for Starfleet communications were some of the most protected, defended and encrypted communications in the known universe.

"Explain."

"The shuttle crash that injured Captain Chakotay and killed Ensign Esposito may have actually been what it appeared to be - an accident. But the attack on the admirals that followed was deliberate and well-planned. The only way anyone could have gotten the information about precisely where the admirals would be and when, and that the injured were being immediately sent to Mars instead of Earth has to be because communications were compromised. I mean, it is not likely that the enemy just had a cloaked ship hanging around UP, on the off chance that the admirals might show up some day."

Mildred took another deep breath, and then released it as a sigh of relief. "I take it that you and Reynolds have come up with something?"

"Actually, quite a few people have come up with something including a long list of Voyagers working on our Maquis tactical defense right now, too. Commander Worf has figured out a way to communicate from the Enterprise using a secure subspace connection converted into ancient Vulcan enigma type code, though we only use it when absolutely necessary. The Maquis -we protect our own," he decisively stated.

Mildred never disputed that fact. "What exactly does 'Maquis' tactics

mean?"

"As for now, it means off the grid, Mrs. Krebs. Very low tech. We're using chalk boards and writing on paper pads with pencils. Nothing about the new security protocols and the new security additions and improvements around Picard House and elsewhere have been listed in any Fleet computer or discussed over Fleet connections and any other possible compromised areas, except in the most generalized of terms. Everyone who needs to know has been told in person."

Mildred Krebs did not give him one of her 'pleasant' smiles for making that statement when she had obviously been kept out of the 'needs to know' portion, for a little time at least. She nodded in agreement as she understood their logic, though, for old school antiquated technology was occasionally used by Section 31 on occasion, to confound and confuse outside interference from the enemy, as well.

"And computers?" She was beginning to see why the Federation had so much trouble in dealing with the Maquis in the past. The Maquis could be quite unpredictable. Hopefully, the enemies that were pursuing them would be as confounded in the future.

Mike explained, "B'Elanna built a series of low-tech padds and computers that cannot connect to anything communicable, much less to each other. In order to share information, we have to download it onto isolated data chips before giving it to someone to transfer the data."

"I take it that there have been quite a few protective measures done here at Picard House?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"How extensive, Mr. Ayala?"

"Right now, the two most protected and secure rooms in the entire complex are the family nursery and then the big nursery. B'Elanna and her engineers have augmented the hidden passageways as well as secret transporter platforms from the nurseries that go down to the third sub-basement, whose existence, in theory, is supposed to be undetectable. The third sub-basement now has its own isolated, in-house environmental system, specific defenses, and the sub-basement could protect its isolated occupants for at least twelve years without outside contact or exposure. For the details about that, as well as everything else that has been done, you need to speak with Commander Torres and Commander Paris. They are the ones that came up with the new main defense plans and wait until you have seen what they have done with the shields."

Mildred stood and nodded in the direction of the big nursery where Brawny and other the Fleet personnel left their children in day care when they were working at Picard House. "Do the Ads know anything at all about this?"

"We haven't told the Admirals just yet. Though we will, once the majority of the defenses are in place and functioning, which should occur in about fifteen more hours." He handed the lady a small padd. "This contains the location of all the hand weapons that are hidden about the house. There isn't a room, that does not have at least one weapon in a secret but easily accessible spot. The larger rooms and open areas have quite a few more weapons of various types including disruptors and hand-held armament."

"My lord." The sound of children's laughter in the distance disturbed her considerations. Mildred thought of something. "Do the twins know about these weapons?"

"Actually, yes. Ryllis has showed them where they are. Believe it or not, Commander Worf has rated both Anna and Billy Bob as approved for basic access to hand-weapons such as phasers and their use. Apparently, when he was teaching them Mok'bara techniques, he was also teaching them how to handle phasers. And how to play Velocity."

"But they were only five at the time." Mildred was having a hard time accepting the thought of such young children handling phasers.

"Worf determined that the twins are very smart and that they should know how to handle phasers properly. Apparently, Klingon children start their armament training at around age three. From Commander Worf's point of view, he was just getting the twins caught up to speed."

"I am sure that Admiral Picard was thrilled over this training."

"Uh, I don't think that Commander Worf might have mentioned this training to Admiral Picard - at least, not yet. And, quite frankly, I would prefer it if Commander Worf were the one to so inform the Ads – informing Admiral Picard by my lonesome would be way above my pay level." Ayala grinned as he made that remark.

Mildred wisely decided that this was the proper course to follow in this matter. It was a topic of discussion she would leave solely unto Mr. Worf, for she was not going to be anywhere near Jean-Luc Picard when he found out that his twins knew how to handle a phaser, much less anything else that the Klingon warrior might have considered acceptable to teach them.

She stood. "Well, let's go see whatever it is that you want me to see, Lieutenant Ayala." Privately, she thought that maybe both Lieutenant Reynolds and Lieutenant Ayala were both due for a promotion.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Kathryn?" he called out since as he stepped into their bedroom, for he noticed that the windows were open and none of the shades had been lowered. And since the bed was empty, obviously, his wife was not taking a nap. Which was something that she supposedly was going to do after lunch, according to the EMH's schedule.

"In my corner," came the answer as he turned in the direction of the windows and the small open area beyond the bed wall. He found Kathryn seated by her terminal, in this part of the bedroom that she had turned into her office. Though she had a formal office next door to Jean-Luc's office on the business level of the house, she rarely used it. Besides, when their daughter arrived, this office would be a lot closer to the nursery than two floors down.

"I thought you were supposed to be napping…"

"My eyes did not want to stay closed, so I thought that I would look over some more of these cadet applications that you so kindly dumped onto my lap."

"Kathryn, if you are not up to dealing with the reviews…"

She interrupted her husband. "I've been dealing with most of them when Chakotay was sleeping in the hospital. It gave me something to do while waiting in the hospital as Chakotay snored. You'll be getting my official report about all of those cadets before Chakotay leaves the hospital and comes here."

"Then, you will wish to stop assisting me?"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I was hoping to give Chakotay something to do when he gets here – if he is up to it."

Jean-Luc inwardly grinned. His wife was turning the tables on him by using the very same tactics that he had tried to use on her. "I see."

She looked up from her terminal. "Chakotay and I work very well together, when it comes to evaluating personnel. He sees thing with a differing point of view, and might catch a cadet candidate that I have overlooked, who still could be an asset to Starfleet."

Jean-Luc had to smile at this statement, for he had noted Chakotay's assessment skills after he had initially reviewed the man's record when he had first been considering Chakotay for a teaching position at the Academy.

"Well, don't overdo it, my dear." He reached into his grey knit sweater pocket and pulled out Nella Darren's star map chip. "However, if you have the time, I have a small request."

"What?" It was not often that Jean-Luc asked her to do anything for him that wasn't personal.

"Commander Nella Darren used to be my chief stellar cartographer on board the Enterprise. Commander Data and Wesley had contacted her at the UP, asking her to identify, if possible, some star charts that came to a total of eight, I believe. Nella compared them to the star chart library from the Voyager Borg star charts and apparently found a few matching reference points…"

Kathryn interrupted her husband again. "And this stellar cartographer commander of yours can't figure out how to translate the Borg charts into Starfleet maps?"

"Actually, Nella could do so if she had the time. Unfortunately, she was on her way out to Starbase Earhart, and didn't get a chance to do so, when she decided to stop by and see me to drop them off. So, I was wondering if you could do the translation."

Kathryn privately filed away for another time, how her husband so-casually used one of his former female senior officer's first name. She would ask him about this Nella Darren someday soon. She held out her hand as Jean-Luc placed the chip on her palm.

"I can translate these maps for you without a problem. I did hundreds of such conversions in Voyager's astrometric lab."

"Good. Thank you." He paused for a second as he watched Kathryn insert the information into her computer. "I tried contacting the Enterprise earlier, but that section of space is still undergoing some sort of major ion storm. Communication is unstable, at best. Only the highest-ranking calls are making it through."

"Did Commander Data say what these maps were for?"

"Not specifically. But, considering that they are searching for DaiMon Bok, I am assuming that these maps might have something to do with locating the Ferengi's whereabouts."

"I'll send the maps off as soon as I am done." She didn't have to look up at Jean-Luc to know that he had a quizzical look on his face, as if he were almost afraid to ask her something. She guessed. "And then, my dear mother-hen of a husband, I will take my nap. Unless there is a problem, I should be finished with the translations in about thirty minutes."

He walked around her hand-carved antique Provincial style desk, and bent over to kiss the top of her hair. But Kathryn surprised him by lifting up her face to him, and guiding his lips to touch hers.

Pleased with that kiss, he left.

About twenty minutes later, Kathryn heard the bedroom door open again, but only part way.

"MommaKath?" a somewhat plaintive little voice asked. "Are you asleep?"

"Come in, Billy Bob," she responded with a smile in her voice. "I am not sleeping, though I will be taking a nap quite soon."

The boy scampered over to his step-mother and then rested his head on crossed arms on top of the edge of the desk, and just stared. Kathryn leaned over and motioned for him to come join her on her lap.

"Whatcha doin'?"

She lightly laughed, as the boy settled on her thigh. She held him in a light embrace between her arms even as she worked on her keyboard. "Trying to get some maps ready to send to the Enterprise. I am using a Borg map library as a comparison, and then I will be changing the maps into a Starfleet format." She glanced down at her wide-eyed step son whose gaze was glued to her screen. "Want to watch as to how I do it?"

He vigorously nodded in response, even as he leaned in closer to observe her movements.

Kathryn patiently explained what she was doing and how she was doing it, as she worked on the last of the star charts.

"Of the eight charts, Mr. Data and Wes have managed to identify four of them. I have just saved the translations and will be sending the data automatically to the Enterprise, as soon as the system can communicate with Captain Riker's ship in real time." She bumped the top of her step-son's head lightly with the tip of her chin. "You know how to send data, don't you, Billy Bob?"

He vigorously nodded. "Oh, yes. Ryllis has been teaching us, but I knew how to do it before Ryllis showed us." He sounded very proud of himself.

"Wesley taught you?" she teased.

"Not really. I just watched how Wes did things when I was little." He giggled. "I figured out how to do it even before my sister did," he boasted.

Then he stilled and bent even closer to the screen, intently studying the star charts.

"They're Anna's charts." He turned to look up at his step-mother. "Anna will be happy that Wes believed her."

Kathryn stilled. "What?" she softly asked, confused.

"These stars." He leaned back against Kathryn's left arm and pointed. "These stars are Anna's star drawings."

"I don't understand, Billy Bob."

"Anna sees Mama's dreams in her dreams. Anna copied the stars that Mama sees. And then we sent the drawings to Wes." With that remark, he scooted off of her lap and rushed to the door, turning to quickly explain, "My turn to walk Winnie!" And with that remark, he was gone.

A somewhat stunned Kathryn tried to comprehend the words that her step-son had just said to her.

Anna shared dreams with her mother?

The twins thought that Beverly was not dead?

Did Jean-Luc know that the twins thought that Beverly was not dead?

Feeling a headache rapidly starting to form, Kathryn stood. And suddenly she felt the room spin around her. Sitting back down, and tapping her comm badge, she asked, "Computer, is Dr. Pulaski in the house?"

Kathryn was informed that the lady was indeed in the kitchen.

A few moments later, Kathryn's request to see the doctor was quickly granted, as Katherine Pulaski barged into the bedroom, waving about her medical tricorder and scanner, looking for her patient.

"Over here," Kathryn distractedly said, as she still tried to comprehend what she had just learned from Billy Bob.

A few minutes later, a scolding doctor helped her patient to walk over to the bed, and then assisted her in getting ready for her nap by tucking the coverlet about the admiral. "You're staying put, Kathryn," the doctor ordered, with her best no-nonsense voice.

Kathryn Janeway just had to say something about this highhandedness. "No, Katherine. I was supposed to go see Chakotay and Kol later on this afternoon," the admiral protested.

"No, Kathryn. You are staying put for the rest of the afternoon. And if you don't comply, or feel better by dinner, you'll get to eat your dinner in bed, too. And I will tell Jean-Luc all about it – every gory little detail."

"You're a petty tyrant," Kathryn grumbled.

"You're not the first admiral to say that to me," Katherine cheerily advised as she prepared a hypospray. After administering it, she added, "Your blood pressure spiked a bit. That is why you were dizzy. I've included an analgesic in the shot, too even though you failed to mention your headache." Katherine checked her tricorder before asking, "Did something happen to upset you?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it was fraught with possibilities that Kathryn really was not quite prepared to deal with, yet. Even as she felt the effects of the mild sedative that the doctor must have given her, Kathryn felt compelled to explain to the lady.

"Billy Bob and Anna think that their mother is still alive. They dream of her…" Kathryn's voice trailed off as she drifted into the arms of Morpheus.

"Hmmph," was Katherine Pulaski's response, as she checked her tricorder, scanned her patient once more, and then left the room, closing the old-fashioned door behind her. "Ryllis was saying something about the twins seeing their mother in their dreams. I wonder if there still is a psychic connection?" she muttered to herself.

Katherine Pulaski was not that surprised to see an almost-running Jean-Luc Picard, rushing toward her. She held up her hand to stop him. It worked. He stopped.

"Kathryn?"

"Is fine. Just a little rise in her blood pressure. I gave her some meds including a light sedative so that she'll be spending the rest of the afternoon sleeping." Her expression softened as she observed Jean-Luc's fear disappear from his face. "She'll be fine, Jean-Luc. She just needs to start taking it really easy – at least for the next few days.

"You'll have to tell her."

Katherine glanced back at the bedroom door. "Don't I know it. If you do it, you'll bungle the job and Kathryn will think that she can do a 20 k run in the morning." She grabbed Jean-Luc's arm even before he could protest her statement, and tugged him down the corridor toward the grand stairs, and away from his suite. "I was just helping Ludvig figure out pregnancy dietary menus, when Kathryn called. So, come downstairs with me and you can tell me what foods you hate."

"So that Ludvig will put it on the menu?" a conceding (for now) Jean-Luc Picard mildly agreed as he walked with his nemesis.

"Nonsense, Jean-Luc. I would never be so obvious and predictable as that…

TBC


	40. What Is the Worst That Can Happen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces to the puzzles are starting to fall into place.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 40:

What Is the Worst That Can Happen?

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Oh my God," Wesley whispered as he stared at the padd that Commander Data had just handed to him. "Anna's charts. They are real. These stars really do exist." He looked up from his workstation, and stared at Mr. Data, before the skeptic in him was forced the question, "Do you think that maybe Anna saw some star charts somewhere, and dreamed about them? I mean, the subconscious can play tricks on you, especially with dreams."

"While that is certainly possibly, Wesley Crusher, it is highly improbable," the android answered as he simultaneously started displaying the charts on the screens around his office workspace as well as running about a hundred other tasks.

"Why is that, Data?" Wesley still felt a bit stunned not to mention confused, by what Anna had discovered.

"Though it is certainly possible that Anna has been exposed to any number of star charts, Wesley, it is highly unlikely that she has ever even seen a Borg version of a star chart."

"Maybe she was subconsciously linked to Jean-Luc Picard when she was dreaming. She's been linked in the past. And maybe these are some charts that Jean-Luc has seen."

"If Ambassador Troi were awake," Data cast an eye toward the sofa in a far corner where the ambassadress was not-so-quietly snoring, "I do believe that she would suggest that you are trying to upset an uttaberry cart."

Wesley just looked at his friend, confused. "Huh?"

Data thought for a nano-second about explaining that phrase but decided that the pressing information that he had to discuss was of the greater importance. "Though it is possible that Admiral Picard has seen these Borg star charts, that is still more improbable than not. I can think of no reason for the Superintendent of the Academy to request to see the Voyager Borg star charts." Data tapped a few keys. "And records show that no one at the Academy either admiral or student, has, as of yet requested access to the Voyager Borg star charts. Therefore…"

Wesley interrupted his friend. "You really think that Anna's drawings are real?"

"The odds support that possibility, Wesley. Do you wish to know the precise odds?" Wesley shook his head in denial.

I

Wesley suddenly thought of his step-father as Locutus. But could Jean-Luc have known about all of the Borg star maps during his assimilation? It was unlikely that Locutus would have been focused on anything but Sector One charts. Still, it was remotely possibly. But soon, such a possibility would not matter.

The android checked the ship's calendar. "Wesley, may I suggest that we meet with Captain Riker in thirty minutes. I believe that I have identified seven possible locations for two of these charts. Three of them can be designated as the closest to the Enterprise's location. Shall we see what Captain Riker will advise?"

"Where are these locations, Data?"

"One location is on the far side of the Badlands near a star named Watson 21. There also have been a few reports that there was Orion activity in the past, connected in some way to Arp 274. The third possible location, is inside of a ghostly halo near a spiral star, near..."

"Arp?" Wesley was startled by this name. "Doesn't that mean that we are talking about looking thousands of light years from here?

"Yes, Wesley." The android stopped speaking as he double checked his facts for he had realized how momentous his next words could be. And he wanted to be absolutely sure about his speculation before speaking it out loud. A moment later, he was sure.

"Wesley, I do believe it is possible that the Orion pirates have some sort of transwarp drive that can travel thousands of light years in a short period of time. That may be how they are kidnapping the ships and causing them to disappear without a trace. It would be logical to assume that is how they are removing the ships from normal space and placing them in transwarp corridors. The pirate strongholds literally could be thousands of light years from the Federation space." Data considered something else that was most disturbing. "And the Romulans could be using them as well."

As the reality of Data's words sank in, all Wesley could whisper was, "Mom…" For a brief moment, the son had had some hope of finding his mother. But now, the near impossibility of it broke his heart. If his mother was anywhere, she was far beyond the stars of the Federation.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Even the impending arrival of his daughter, could not lift the grimness that had converged upon Captain William Riker's soul as he reviewed all the data that Data and Wesley had given to him. After reading the reports twice, he finally looked up from the several padds that Data had handed to him in the captain's ready room; both the android and the commander who were his friends, saw the weariness and the discouragement that could be identified in the captain's eyes.

"Daunting," Riker whispered. He dropped the padds on the coffee table in front of the armchair upon which was seated. He stared at the two commanders sitting on his sofa and waved his arm toward the padds. "How the hell do I tell Admiral Wiley about all of this?" He shook his head as if in disbelief of what he had read. "Transwarp? With Romulans? And now millions of more light years that we might have to explore because of it?"

"If I may, Captain," Data almost hesitantly responded which was uncharacteristic for the android, "evidence from Voyager's transwarp experiences, indicates that it is possible to identify and follow specific ships in the transwarp corridors. And then there is all the data from the Excelsior transwarp experiments, the Delta Flyer transwarp prototype, as well as other experiments and theories which I am thoroughly, currently researching."

Riker raised his chin, as he started to think again, recalling Enterprise's brush with transwarp technologies. "And a Ferengi ship will have distinctive detectable characteristics regardless of whether we are dealing with transwarp signature trails or warp field ion trails. I will suggest to Admiral Wiley that he sends ships to the latest disappearance sites to check for transwarp signatures."

Data added, "Also, the solid trilithium fuel should have distinctive, readily identifiable sub-atomic particle characteristics."

"So, we are not quite looking for a needle in a haystack," Riker mused. "It is more like looking for a bottle of good whiskey that is still unopened, inside of one of my mother-in-law's residences." The captain actually smiled. "We may not know which house has the bottle, but thanks to these star charts, we at least have clues pointing the way as to where we should be looking."

This analogy did bring a slight smile to Wesley's lips. It was apt.

"Wesley, our odds of finding your mother, have considerably improved," Data concluded.

But Wesley was still threatening to sink into a depressed state. "Knowing what kind of engine is powering the pirate ships is one thing. But that still doesn't answer the question as to how we get our hands on a functioning transwarp drive that won't turn us into lizards or whatever."

There was a pause, and then Captain William Riker chuckled, before flashing one of his patented grins. "We begin where it all began, Wes." The captain of the Enterprise's despair was lifting as his mind started coming up with possibilities. "If one Ferengi has a transwarp drive ship…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence as the light dawned on both Wesley and Data.

"…can his Ferengi competitors be that far behind with their own transwarp starships?" Wesley whispered.

Data nodded as he considered the likelihood of such ships. "I believe we will still require assistance from Mr. Quark."

"And we are going to have to come up with enough latinum to bribe a Nagus, many times over," Wesley observed, "for clearly, by Ferengi standards, whatever is really going on, is very, very profitable." He pondered some more before adding, "At least once Holt hears about all of this, it should become a top priority matter for Starfleet. We won't have any difficulty getting our hands on gold-plated latinum, at all, to pay for bribes or whatever."

Riker shook his head as he began to realize all of the impossible, incredible ramifications of Data and Wesley's discoveries.

"And I will start estimating the appropriate remuneration to give Mr. Quark for all of his help, especially if his help brings us to a satisfactory ending," Wesley added for he had a feeling that once Quark's assistance was discovered by certain Ferengis, this particular barkeeping Ferengi from Deep Space 9, might become ostracized. A great deal of latinum could offset that predicament for Quark, if all good things actually came to pass. Wesley would also make sure that Winston Holt Wiley met this Ferengi who actually had a conscience, too. Being able to boast of a connection to the head of Starfleet surely wouldn't hurt Quark's reputation either.

"Do that later, Wes. First, we have to go find a way to rescue Beverly, and everyone else," the captain ordered.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Ah, Captain Riker." The head of Starfleet cheerfully greeted his son-in-law. "You have news, Will?"

"Too much news, Holt. And some of it is not good." And then Will Riker explained what he had learned so far, even as he sent the formal reports that Wes and Data had written to the head of Starfleet. Will included the number of non-Federation ships in the 'lost' totals, as well. And by the time he was done with his report, Winston Holt Wiley morphed from congenial father-in-law into the determined, no-nonsense, supreme head of Starfleet Command.

"Captain Riker, I am classifying your entire mission as 'Top Secret'. I hereby authorize you to use whatever method is necessary, to get Starfleet the Ferengi transwarp drive. If there has to be monetary 'negotiations', leave that to Lwaxana. She'll have access to all the funds that you might need." He harrumphed for a second before adding, "And tell that damnable woman that it is her turn to call me."

"I will, Sir." Though privately, Will knew that his mother-in-law would call her husband only when she was good and ready to do so.

"I'll alert Dr. Brahms. And if I order you to come back, bring Wes. I'm pretty sure that Leah will need the young genius' help in adapting the transwarp drive to fit our starships. Commander LaForge, too. At least, Dr. Brahms has solved the cellular mutation problems from the anti-proton radiation."

Will just had to interrupt with, "Maybe the Ferengis didn't solve the anti-proton radiation problem of mutation. Who would know?"

Holt sent Will a telling look, and continued speaking. "But somehow, the Ferengis have solved the solid trilithium matrices stability problems as well. Leah is still having difficulties with that, according to her latest progress reports. I will assign Commander B'Elanna Torres to work on the project, as well. Considering what the half-Klingon Maquis engineer has done at the UP over the past few months, we should have a solution with a transwarp engine up and running as soon as possible."

Will Riker hadn't really heard about any scuttlebutt about research into the transwarp drive, but he was not that surprised that there had been ongoing research.

Winston Holt Wiley harrumphed again. "Will, your first priority is to get the transwarp drive – either an actual drive or the specifications. Negotiate for it first, if possible. Then, if Leah Brahms thinks that the drive is adaptable, I'll order you to bring the Enterprise back here for engine conversion." Winston thought of something. "Or, if possible, new multiple warp drive conversions…", he mused. Winston thought of something else. "Keep it on the quiet, Captain Riker. Only inform your officers of this situation, who are on an absolutely need to know basis. We don't want to start a panic – or tip off the Romulans too soon. Though once we get one of these warp drives from the Ferengis, I'm pretty sure that those Romulans will find out right away."

"Understood, Admiral. Though I will try to negotiate a privacy agreement with whomsoever is involved with the transwarp engine. If we can forestall the Romulans from discovering anything, even for a short length of time, that would still give us a bit of an advantage."

"I like the way you think, Captain," Holt reluctantly admitted. But he was always one to give credit where credit was due.

"Thank you, Sir." Will Riker's thoughts then moved in another direction. "And what of Admiral Picard? What should we tell him?"

Winston thought this over for a minute. Finally, he decided. "Right now, do nothing," Winston dispassionately replied. "We really still don't have any evidence. But it we can get our hands on a working transwarp drive, then that is another matter."

After Captain Riker had signed off, Winston Holt Wiley felt his mantle as the head of Starfleet slip to the floor. It was the simple officer that he had once been, sitting on the desk chair in his private office, that wearily whispered to himself, "Damn it. Romulans with transwarp drives… Just what I did not need."

In times of crisis, the head of Starfleet did not turn to whiskey. Instead, he went into action.

The danger to the Federation had just increased. Considerably. He was going to have to call a security meeting with his top advisors immediately. And the list of such advisors did include Mildred Krebs' name.

The top floor lights of the Asimov Tower would burn bright, long this night. And for many nights to come.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn was still in bed when Jean-Luc went into their bedroom to check on her. He thought that she was still napping, when he heard her mumble, "Jean-Luc…"

He sat on the edge of the pale blue tufted duvet cover that covered her on her side of the bed. "What, my dear?"

"Help me up, would you?" She struggled to sit up. "I'm beginning to have trouble getting up on my own, especially off of soft surfaces."

Jean-Luc helped his wife sit up, and then eased her out of bed. Kathryn had no difficulty in finding her slippers. However, she did need Jean-Luc's assistance when she tried to bend over and pick them up. For her husband would not permit her to actually bend over, because of her earlier bout of dizziness.

"You're turning into my EMH," she mumbled as she walked away from him and into their bathroom. When she returned, she was surprised to find her husband intently studying their bed with an odd expression on his face. "What?"

He turned and smiled at her. "Did I ever tell you about what Geordi LaForge and Wes invented for Beverly when she was in her last trimester?"

"Not off hand," she warily remarked. "And I'm not there, yet."

"They turned Beverly's side of the bed into an anti-grav hologrid."

"What?"

He reached over and hugged her closer to him on the bed, as he explained, "They designed and built an individual hologrid on the bed, so that Beverly could control the gravity settings when she slept." He lightly kissed her cheek before he continued, "You see, Beverly was born on the Moon, and as her pregnancy progressed, she found herself to be more comfortable in lower gravity settings." He chuckled as he remembered, "If there was any way for her to have pulled it off, I think that she would have wanted to stay on Mars toward the end of her pregnancy. It was out of sheer desperation, when I saw how much difficulty she was having, especially when Beverly was trying to sleep, that gave me the idea of trying to create a lower gravity environment here at Picard House."

"Please tell me that you still have the hologrid," Kathryn pleaded.

"Oh, it's around here somewhere. I'll ask Mildred where, and then find someone to install it."

"I'll call B'Elanna," Kathryn remarked, as she knew that very soon, she would be needing such an invention." Then something niggled in her brain. "Doesn't this hologrid use a lot of power?"

"That is one of the reasons as to why it is still in the experimental stage over at Starfleet Medical," Jean-Luc explained, as he helped Kathryn take off her robe, and then to slip a long red knit tunic over her head. "I believe that in extreme cases, the anti-grave hologrid is in use in some Starfleet maternity wards, if not elsewhere." He glanced at the chronograph projection that was on one of the nightstands. "It's almost time for dinner, Kathryn. Billy Bob and Anna should be cleaning up from their trip to the beach with the puppies, right about now. Are you up to eating downstairs?"

"I feel fine, Jean-Luc." He motioned toward the door, but suddenly she stayed him by placing her hand of his arm. "I need to tell you something, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc couldn't even begin to guess about what the topic would be. "Kathryn?"

She sat down on the bench by the foot of the bed, and pulled her husband to sit down next to her. "Jean-Luc, I had a conversation with Billy Bob this afternoon, when I was working on those star charts that I sent off to the Enterprise."

"You had no trouble in translating them?"

"No, of course not." She shook her head. "Billy Bob was just talking about how he and Anna dream of their mother being lost in the stars, Jean-Luc. He seemed to recognize some of the stars. Did the twins ever mention anything like that to you?"

He stiffened as he considered her words. This was not the first time during the past few weeks that someone had mentioned the children's dreams of their mother to him.

"Anna had spoken of sensing her mother in her dreams. But that is simply what I just thought those dreams were – a child searching for and missing her long-lost mother."

"I don't know, Jean-Luc. Billy-Bob wasn't trying to be evasive. He just says that Anna sees her mother sometimes in her dreams near certain identifiable stars."

He stood, considering his wife's words. "I will go talk to them right now."

She stood, still holding on to his arm. "Jean-Luc, wait. Let's question them after we talk to Ryllis, and maybe Mildred."

He slowly nodded in agreement. "For if anyone would know about these dreams and the possible reality of them, it would be those two ladies." The faint hope that had risen in his breast disappeared. "Maybe I was simply dreaming of star charts and that is what Anna dreamed too…"

TBC


	41. Lwaxana Has a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lest one forget, Lwaxana is a devious lady.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 41:

Lwaxana Has a Plan

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lwaxana was absolutely resplendent. She was stunning. The gown that she was wearing went far beyond her customary formal, over-the top-and-then-some diplomatic style of dress. For she had dressed to impress the Grand Nagus for their unofficial, private meeting. In short, she was intending to shiver the earlobes of the Grand Nagus Zek with her impressiveness.

In the senior staff conference room, even Will Riker was willing to admit that he had never seen his mother-in-law so fancily dressed before. "You look fantastic," was his comment as he walked over to kiss the lady's cheek.

"I know," was the lady's humble reply. She slowly twirled so that everyone who had assembled for this staff meeting could get the complete stunning effect of her form-fitting outfit. For literally, Lwaxana was covered with jewels. She wore a headdress of diamonds, yellow diamonds and sapphires that was designed to exaggerate and then highlight her perfect Betazed ears. Every inch of her full-length gown was covered in brilliant quadrillion cut diamonds except for the dolman sleeves which had a striped pattern of sapphires and yellow diamonds. The décolletage was low of course, but her necklace with bird's egg size huge cabochon sapphires and cut diamonds covered almost every inch of the exposed neck and chest with a dramatic flair. The matching full-length cape had a hood that attached to the top of Lwaxana's headdress, giving somewhat the impression of Vulcan regality. Down the front edges of the cape, sewn into a translucent chiffon banding, were many visible strips of bars of latinum.

In short, Lwaxana was dressed like a Ferengi Commerce Authority banker's dream. She was a woman worthy of bribing a Grand Nagus.

"Whoa," Geordi LaForge whispered, as he automatically scanned the lady and then had to stop to double check his readings. "They are not replicated stones!" he whispered out loud.

Usually replicated gemstones came with an invisible interior marking telling anyone who was interested in purchasing such stones and scanned them, that they were replicated. This identification had become a universal standard – at least, in theory, in the Alpha Quadrant – ever since the almost-great goldsmith's war during the end of the 23rd century that had occurred when jewelers realized that they were going to be put out of business by perfect replicated gemstones. The commerce battle between the manufacturers and DeBeers Syndicate, had been a short business debacle, but a lesson had been learned by all sides. There was nothing illegal about replicated stones as long as they were so properly identified as such. Which had the odd effect of making the natural jewels all the more valuable in the scheme of things.

Geordi walked up to Lwaxana and touched a sleeve fingering a chain of marquis cut diamonds, even as his visor tried to adjust to all the sparkling. "They really are real!"

"Of course, they are, you silly boy. Do you think that I'd insult the Grand Nagus Zek by wearing replicated jewels?" she puffed.

A very pregnant Deanna waddled over to where her mother was standing, eyeing the necklace. "Mother, how could you afford this?" For though Deanna knew that though her mother was wealthy, there was not any possible way that the Troi estate could support this kind of unimaginable extravagant expenditure.

"Your step-father is a very generous man," Lwaxana remarked with a casualness that was belied by her high level of suppressed energy. "And of course, an old friend came by and helped me as well, to create this masterpiece."

At this point, Wesley Crusher entered the conference room. Almost everyone's jaw dropped except for Lwaxana at the sight of the commander. For Wesley was wearing a Starfleet dress uniform that in no way resembled what officers normally wore.

At first, Will Riker had thought that Wes had copied one of Winston Holt Wiley's ostentatious dress uniforms. But it was Deanna, who always paid attention to fashion and its telling details who announced as she moved with a cumbersome gait around the conference table toward her friend, "That's one of Q's designs!"

"Of course, Little One," Lwaxana calmly answered. "Who better than Q to dress Wes to impress? After all, I taught Q a great many of his stylish tricks over the years."

Surprisingly, Wesley was not nervous about the whole thing. For he had spent years as an adjutant to Winston Holt Wiley, as well as being in the company of Lwaxana Troi-Wiley. He was used to the bizarre. With a composure that would have been lacking in his old self of six years ago, Wesley slightly nodded in agreement. He fingered the gold, blue and white bejeweled wide sash that was anchored by one of his solid latinum epaulets. The sash was complimentary in design to Lwaxana's dress. "Rather shiny, isn't it?" he just casually remarked for when it came to life with Lwaxana, weird was the norm.

Meanwhile Geordi was scanning Lwaxana as well as Wes. Finally, he put down his scanner, and just had to ask, "Mrs. Troi-Wiley, how can all these gemstones be real? I mean, I realize that some of the big stones, especially the corundum, have inclusions. But still, it is next to impossible for there to be this many gemstones – especially since there are no transporter records of so many of them being beamed on board…"

Will Riker raised his eyebrows as he caught an expression on his mother-in-law's face. She most definitely was plotting something – or had connived in something. "Lwaxana, what did you do? Raid a Federation vault?"

"Nonsense." She looked over at Geordi as Geordi assisted her to carefully sit down. Fortunately, the dress had a small padded bustle underneath the outer fabric of the skirt that permitted her to sit without having prongs pinching her behind, though it was a bit lumpy. Once she was comfortable, she explained. "I described my problem with replicated gemstones to a dear friend of mine. Once he understood, he created all of these little baubles for me, to which he added inclusions and everything. Since he made them with elements found on multiple different planets, every single carat will scan with the properties of real gemstones. For that is, in short, exactly what they are, except that your Mother Nature didn't quite take the time to make them."

"Are you telling me that Q was on board the Enterprise and no one noticed?" Riker huffed.

"Q likes to visit me privately in my quarters," Lwaxana coyly explained, silently daring anyone to question her further about the matter. She neglected to mention that their Q liked to play gin rummy when he wasn't playing with worlds. Besides, the only person who had the right to ask questions about her relationship with the Continuum citizen was her husband. And he already knew all there was to know about Q.

Deanna started to giggle and giggle.

"What?" a still slightly-perturbed husband puffed.

"Mother, you always said your ass was worth a fortune…," Deanna gasped as she began to laugh louder.

Lwaxana started to laugh too. "And I was right, wasn't I, Little One?"

Suddenly, Deanna hitched a breath and froze.

As if speaking only to the babe-to-be, Lwaxana warned, "Don't you dare come now, Little One!" (For Lwaxana referred to all those that she loved as 'Little One' at least once in a while.) "Your grandmama wants to be present when you come forth into the universe. But, wait a few more weeks before you make your presence known." She beatifically smiled over at her daughter. "Your Little One is willing to take her time before she decides to be born."

By this time, Dr. Selar was scanning Deanna and analyzing the data. "Your mother is correct, Deanna. You just had a Braxton-Hicks contraction." She glanced over at the very worried captain kneeling next to his wife's chair clutching her hand. "That's means it was a false alarm, Captain Riker. No cause for too much alarm. Besides, Deanna will probably have a few more of those before she finally gives birth." With a voice that fairly dripped with sarcasm, the Vulcaness added, "With your permission of course, Ambassadress."

It was at this point that Wesley spoke up, rather firmly. "It is time to begin the meeting," he announced. "The Ambassadress and I have a schedule to keep."

Riker returned to his captain's chair, and leaned back into it. "Okay, Wes. Why?" Captain William Riker waved his hand toward all the shiny, pretty things. "I take it that this is part of some sort of elaborate scheme?"

Wesley politely smiled as he explained, "Lwaxana decided that it was simpler to bribe Grand Nagus Zek that to try and negotiate with the Grand Nagus and the Ferengi Council of the Commerce Authority."

"Faster too," Lwaxana just had to add.

Before the captain of the Enterprise could explode, Data piped up. "The Ambassadress is correct. I estimate that if Lwaxana tried to negotiate with the Commerce Authority, it would take over seven weeks to reach the point of negotiation for even the mere mention of the transwarp drive engine. Whereas a hefty bribe would accomplish the same thing in less than an hour."

"By any means necessary." Riker shook his head, privately wondering how Jean-Luc would have handled this situation. Surely, plotting to bribe a planetary official had to be against some sort of Federation regulation? And why was Data calling Lwaxana by her first name?

Lwaxana caught Will's last thought. "Will, I want all of my friends," she glanced about the conference table and nodded, "including everyone in this room, to call me by my first name. It's much friendlier that way, now isn't it?"

"Please explain what is going on, Mother." Deanna decided to intervene before her husband's sorely tried temper let loose.

Her husband relaxed just a little bit, willing to let Deanna, for now, deal with her mother.

"Why spend weeks in negotiations, giving the conspirators plenty of time to contact the Romulans, when I can accomplish everything that needs to be done in a few hours by dealing with only one Ferengi?"

"You're going to bribe the Grand Nagus Zek by giving him the clothes off of your back?" Will just had to ask. "You know that he will take them."

Lwaxana benignly smiled. "That may be part of the plan, if necessary. I'm going to give him Mr. Homm's robe first."

Since Homm was not in attendance, Will could only try to imagine what Mr. Homm might be wearing.

"How can you imagine this scheme will work?" Will demanded to know.

"It's Lwaxana," Worf barked out, somewhat frustrated by his commanding officer's lack of comprehension of the brilliance and practicality of the Betazed's scheme. "And the Grand Nagus is a Ferengi! Of course, Zek will take a bribe!"

Will shook his head in denial. "But…"

"Captain." Lwaxana's patience was reaching its end, too. "The Grand Nagus is a Ferengi. I can sense how attracted he is to me. But, unlike other humanoid males, the Grand Nagus will be far more attracted to the jewels I am wearing than to my ear lobes and then to whatever part of my body is still of interest to him."

Will eyed his mother-in-law with disbelief. "As I recall, didn't you once announce to one and all that you could not 'read' a Ferengi's mind?"

Lwaxana smiled one of her special smiled that was guaranteed to irritate. "I lied," she announced, as she enjoyed watching the expression on her son-in-law's face.

"Mother!" Deanna's ability to tolerate the occasional contentiousness between her mother and her husband, had just reached its end. "Explain yourself."

"I know that Grand Nagus Zek will be willing to deal with me, when we are alone," Lwaxana rationalized. "And since all the jewels that I and my entourage will be wearing is worth almost double what the Grand Nagus' personal fortune is worth, Zek is about to receive a great incentive to negotiate." She caught again, one of her son-in-law's thoughts. "And, since I will be representing myself as someone who will not be inclined to shed Zek's blood, Zek and his son and heir, Krax, will be more inclined to deal with me as a peace-loving pacifist Betazoid, rather than being forced to honor any possible blood-thirsty Romulan agreements that Zek may have originally sanctioned." Lwaxana waved her hand and Wesley handed her a jewel-encrusted flask, that Mr. Homm had entrusted to him. And she took a long drink from it.

No one in the room imagined that it was water.

"Besides, the Romulans should have known that the Ferengi can't be trusted when it comes to making a more profitable deal. I'm sure that there is a Rule of Acquisition about that, somewhere."

"Number Sixteen," Data dutifully responded.

His captain silently dared the android to say anything more. Fortunately, Mr. Data was beginning to tell when his captain wished for him to stop speaking.

"Mother, that Rule of Acquisition would apply toward us, too," Deanna politely reminded her mother.

"Do you really think that there is anyone out there who could offer more than I will? You haven't seen Mr. Homm's robes yet." Though Lwaxana did take another sip from her flask before placing it down. "Besides, I brought on board the Enterprise sixteen cases of tulaberry wine. As far as I know, there ain't any more of that wine left in the universe since the tulaberries were wiped out by a mold a while back. And since it is Zek's favorite wine..." She sniffed. "Grand Nagus Zek once offered a planet in exchange for a half-empty case, so I know that Zek will want my wine." Again, Lwaxana caught the captain of the Enterprise's train of thought. "And no, I did not steal the wine, Captain Riker. My husband received those cases of wine over forty years ago. They've been in his wine vault ever since." This time her sniff was more audible. "Mr. Homm dusted them off, drank one of the bottles from an open case to determine if it was still drinkable, and once he recovered from that experience, informed me that the Grand Nagus would want the wine." She winced. "I understand that it is a disgustingly sweet wine…"

"Lwaxana, I am still not sure about all of the details of your plan to get the transwarp drive," Will calmly announced as he tried not to overreact to any and every single thing that his mother-in-law was planning.

True to form, Lwaxana ignored Will. Instead, she focused upon Commander Worf. "Woofie, my son-in-law is such a dear man. He is worried about my safety, so he wants you to join my entourage." She waved her hand toward the door. "Go see Mr. Homm. He'll put together an outfit for you."

For the first time during this meeting, Will Riker almost smiled. One did not have to be a telepath to know that Mr. Worf had paled at the thought of what Lwaxana might have in store for him.

"Excellent idea, Lwaxana." Will turned his chair in the direction of his officer. "Number One, go and do whatever and wear whatever Mr. Homm deems necessary."

Worf did not have to ask if it was a captain's order. He could see the gleam of anticipation in his commanding officer's eyes. His Klingon dignity, at least for now, was doomed. He stiffly stood, conceded this round to his captain, and left the conference room.

"Will, my meeting with Zek is supposed to be a tete-a-tete," Lwaxana mildly protested, for she was quite touched by her son-in-law's personal concern for her well-being.

"Worf can assess the situation even if you are meeting with the Grand Nagus in private," Will countered. "He can press his ear to the door, if necessary."

"And I will assess the validity of any designs or engine models that we get from the Ferengi," Wesley explained in a somewhat dry tone of voice. Wesley suspected that maybe Captain Riker had not noticed that Wes was now at Level Six of Worf's holodeck battle program. Which just so happened to be two levels higher than the current ranking of the captain of the Enterprise.

Geordi spoke up. "Wes, have you considered the problem as to where we are going to get the solid trilithium if we do get our hands on the designs?"

Data quickly said, "May I suggest that we access the same source that the Ferengi use?"

"Why the fuss?" Lwaxana interrupted all of them. "Zek will buy whatever solid trilithium that we need from the Remans. Purchasing it from them, won't be a problem. Trust me, by the time Mr. Homm is done with Commander Woof, there will be more than enough credits."

Will Riker slammed his palm against the top of the conference table. "Who the devil are the Remans?"

Surprised by his reaction, Lwaxana thought for a moment. "Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you about them. The Remans are the slaves who mine the solid trilithium on Romulan owned hell planets."

Data thought that he had better explain before his captain lost his temper, so he interrupted the ambassadress. "The Romulans subjugate the Remans as slaves though it is rumored that on some of the Reman planets that there are rumblings of a revolution. Apparently, some of the slaves have escaped, and are now selling the solid trilithium that they are stealing to various traders including the Orion Syndicates. It is unknown if the free Remans are part of that syndicate or are merely trading with them. However, it should be possible to use them as a source to our advantage."

Lwaxana quickly added, "And that is good news, Will. For I imagine that former slaves will be less likely to mention our involvement to the Romulans."

Will stifled a groan. After a moment, Riker turned toward his CMO. "Dr. Selar, before Ambassador Troi's party beams down, I was subcutaneous tracking devices imbedded into everyone for emergency beam-out procedures if necessary."

Dr. Selar nodded in agreement. "If I may suggest a biological marker rather than a mechanical one? That way the Ferengi won't be able detect the tracking device if they undergo a normal scan."

"Excellent idea, Dr. Selar. Proceed." Will looked at everyone who was still in the room. "You are all dismissed – except for you, Madame Ambassador. I would like to have a private word with you."

Lwaxana only brightly smiled as she acknowledged her son-in-law's request. For she knew how to handle Will. Or so she thought.

TBC


	42. Little Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet moments, little scenes.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 42:

Little Scenes

=/\= =/\= =/\=

She laughed and laughed. She laughed with a whole-hearted, deep-throated sound as her mirth took control. In fact, this was the best laugh that she had had in almost eight years. Her laughing only abated as she finally ran out of breath and energy.

"Mother," a slightly impatient Kathryn Janeway-Picard stated, as she forced herself to wait until her mother was only gasping for breath instead of choking. "Mother. What is so funny?"

It took another minute of trying to pull herself together before Gretchen Janeway could answer her daughter.

"Kathryn, to think that everyone thought that Phoebe was the wild child! When it's really you!" Another barrage of hiccups and giggles followed before she managed to wheeze, "You and Jean-Luc and Chakotay? Oh my!" The volume levels of her laughing started to rise again. "And when I think of what your Aunt Martha might say…" Gretchen started snickering some more.

Jean-Luc put one foot inside of their bedroom, observed Gretchen cackling, overheard his mother-in-law's words about Phoebe, stepped back, pivoted, then turned tail and ran. The man who had faced the Borg, Q and Captain Picard Day, did not have the courage in him, to face his mother-in-law at this very moment of his life. This was one conversation he was not going to have together with his wife and mother-in-law. At least, not now. He would wait until Gretchen stopped laughing.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc finally found the courage to open the bedroom door just a crack. With an audible sigh of relief, he saw that his wife was alone. So, he entered the room.

"Coward!" his wife hissed.

"Discretion is the better part of valor," he countered.

"I saw you almost enter the room. You left me alone with my Mother!"

"I was under the impression that you wished to ask your mother for some advice so that is why I left you alone."

"Oh, you…" She sent him a mini-death glare.

He appeared to be suitably chastened, though Kathryn did not doubt in the slightest, that her husband was putting on an act.

"Well, Jean-Luc?"

Now, he was confused. "Well, what, my dear?"

She sweetly smiled. "Aren't you interested in hearing the advice that my Mother gave us?"

Cautiously, he asked, "And the advice was?"

"Not to do anything that she wouldn't do," Kathryn harrumphed.

At this, Jean-Luc chuckled. "I believe I did hear your Mother once reference something about Chakotay's dimples…"

Kathryn sent him a full-fledged death glare. And then some.

Her husband was impervious to it.

"Kathryn, I am really, really beginning to like your Mother. Quite a lot."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Oh, you give such good oomax, Grand Nagus Zek," Lwaxana sighed to the gentleman sitting too close by her side, massaging the shell-like edges of her dainty pink ears.

"It is a privilege, my little gem," Zek tittered for the Nagus had always considered himself to be a 'wit'.

"Oh, go ahead and remove any diamonds that might be in your way, my little lovey-dovey," Lwaxana cooed, as if she didn't already know that Zek was palming the diamonds that were lightly glued to her ears where his fingers were rubbing.

"You are the perfect woman!" Zek oozed.

"Well, your 'perfect' woman has a gift for you."

Somehow, Mr. Homm knew his cue, and appeared, almost as if by magic, bearing a tray, a chilled bottle of tulaberry wine, and two large wine goblets. After placing the tray on the table in front of the Grand Nagus in his inner sanctum, Mr. Homm then silently backed out the door, glittering.

Lwaxana did not doubt that Grand Nagus Zek had calculated out the value of the stones on Mr. Homm's robe down to the last credit during the few seconds her manservant was in the room.

Lwaxana and Zek were alone again.

Tearing his eyes away from her bejeweled earlobes, Zek took a cursory look at what was on the tray. His sudden shriek was a sound of pure joy.

"Tulaberry wine?" He was almost slobbering, as he leaned closer to the table, reverently touching the bottle label, with a lone trembling finger. "I did not know that there was any bottle left of this liquid latinum in the entire universe!" He sobbed, "I have searched and searched…Offered fortunes…, planets…"

"Let me pour you some of my gift," Lwaxana seductively offered, as her fingers drifted over one of Zek's big lobes for a moment. Carefully pouring a large amount of wine into one goblet, and only a little bit of it into her goblet, Lwaxana gracefully lifted up Zek's gold goblet, and pressed its rim to Zek's lips. "Drink, oh great eared one. Drink my gift to you."

Willingly, the Ferengi took a sip. A look of sheer bliss appeared on his face. Then he took another sip. And before Lwaxana knew it, the goblet was half empty.

Lwaxana put the goblet back down on the tray.

"It has been years since I have tasted this drink of the gods," Zek blissfully sighed. He was almost tempted to return the diamonds that he had removed from Lwaxana's earlobes. But Zek wasn't that far gone – just yet.

"I take it that you like my gift?"

"Oh Lwaxana, you cannot imagine the joy that you have given me. It is a gift beyond value…"

There was a predatory gleam in Lwaxana's eye as she lifted the gold goblet back to the salivating Ferengi's lips.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Out with it."

Jean-Luc lifted up an eyebrow at this statement, as he watched his mother-in-law enter his office at Picard House. He put down the padd that he was reviewing as Gretchen approached and then seated herself on the lone arm chair in the room

"I take it that you are referencing your discussion with my wife earlier this evening?"

"You can couch your words with all the dignified formalities you usually use, Jean-Luc Picard. You still can't hide from me."

Jean-Luc ruefully considered that fact that it had been a long time since he had been 'mothered'. With Gretchen, it was a decidedly mixed blessing.

"Gretchen, are you saying that you disapprove of my solution?"

Gretchen grinned her evil little smile that occasionally her daughters copied. "On the contrary. I always knew that you were a very clever, intelligent man, Jean-Luc Picard. Trust you to suggest the perfect solution to your ethical and moral dilemma."

"Then you approve?" Jean-Luc was somewhat hesitant for at the moment, he was uncertain as to exactly what his mother-in-law was about.

"Wish I'd thought of it," Gretchen countered. "Knowing my gel, I am glad that you found a solution that could appease her conscience – not to mention giving her that gorgeous big lug, she's stuck on." She raised an eyebrow, and then observed with genuine concern, "I just hope that Katie doesn't break your heart in the process." Her words were said with good humor. She just hoped that Jean-Luc understood her warning as well.

It took Jean-Luc a moment to figure out what Gretchen was trying to say. He ignored the possibility of the breaking of his heart. That had happened when Beverly had disappeared.

"You don't approve of Captain Chakotay?"

"Well I did approve of Chakotay when he helped save my daughter from herself, helping her to bring Voyager home. But that was before he married that Borg babe. He most definitely was not thinking with his brain when he made that move." Gretchen dramatically sighed. "I really thought that Chakotay was old enough to know better."

"Chakotay is not totally to blame, Gretchen. Kathryn can be quite off-putting when she is determined to be so," Jean-Luc quietly reminded the lady. "I've read Kathryn's personal logs, with her permission," he hastily added lest his mother-in-law get the wrong idea.

"I know. So, have I," Gretchen added. "That's why I can't quite summon up any real anger over Chakotay's actions. Kathryn does have the pig-headed ability to drive a man into doing insane things."

"I've noticed," he dryly observed.

"You knew that and yet you still married her." Gretchen stood, leaned over the desk and fondly kissed her son-in-law on the forehead. "My daughter is very lucky to have you, Jean-Luc Picard." With that remark, she walked to the door, opened it and added, "Dinner in about thirty minutes."

"I know," Jean-Luc grumbled to himself. "It still is my house… I think."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Gretchen sighed in peace as she sipped her after-dinner drink on the terrace by the breakfast room. Gretchen thought that the view from this spot was the best on the terrace, for you could see the ocean, the beach and a good portion of the flower gardens, all from one spot. It was a pity that no one had thought to put bedrooms above the kitchen area when there had been a house remodeling, to take advantage of the views.

She sipped her Aldebaran whiskey with great appreciation. Jean-Luc had introduced her to it when she had first arrived at Picard House. Her son-in-law was ever thoughtful in all sorts of ways.

The children were asleep, Jean-Luc and Kathryn were doing whatever in the library together, and all was quiet for now. Though tomorrow morning, Chakotay would be coming to Picard House. And any semblance of peace would disappear quite rapidly when that even occurred – at least for a while.

Footsteps scuffing against the stone surface to this portion of the terrace could be heard from behind her.

"Hello, Katherine," Gretchen called out, not bothering to turn her head.

The clunk of a bottle against a glass table top was heard, before Dr. Pulaski settled herself down onto the lounge chair next to Gretchen, stretching out her long, denim-clad legs.

"I see that you brought reinforcements." Gretchen eyed the whiskey bottle and recognized that it was from Jean-Luc's private reserve that he had in the library.

"Jean-Luc is a generous host," Katherine archly explained.

"Whether he knows it or not?" Gretchen asked as she held up her glass for the doctor to add some more green liquid into it.

"Like I said, Jean-Luc is always a generous host," Katherine humorously clarified as she poured.

Both ladies quietly laughed together, as they clinked two lowball glasses together.

"You were Jean-Luc's CMO?" Gretchen idly asked. "Is that where his antipathy toward you started?"

"I preferred taking care of my patients before bothering with captainly protocol nonsense," Katherine explained. "He took umbrage over that. It took a while, but Jean-Luc and I did reach an understanding before I left the Enterprise. And certainly, years later, when I helped with the delivery of the twins." She took a sip of her whiskey. "But I think that the main thing that was wrong with my time on board his ship was simply that I was not Beverly Crusher. And that's what he really had a problem with."

"Yes, even now, I sometimes sense that he instinctively wants my daughter to be Beverly before he catches himself." Gretchen took a sip of her whiskey. "What was she like?"

Katherine took a long drink of her whiskey before answering. "We became good friends the first day Beverly and I met, much to Jean-Luc's chagrin. For we both knew that Jean-Luc was not the man that he sometimes believed himself to be. I was just amused by the masculine foibles. But Beverly, she loved him for it. After I observed them together for quite a while, I just gave up trying to figure out what made that relationship work. Jean-Luc adored Beverly as well as loved her. And Beverly just simply loved him, unconditionally."

"And he will never get over the loss," Gretchen sadly agreed.

"True, but he has decided to go forward rather than look backward. Quite frankly, I didn't think that he had it in him after he lost Beverly. It's thanks to your daughter that Jean-Luc is living life again. Kathryn is good for him."

"They saved each other," Gretchen observed.

"And so, they did," Katherine agreed.

They were quiet for a while, just enjoying the sounds of the night, and the beauty of the garden with its fairy lights twinkling down below.

"Katherine, has Anna or Billy Bob ever said anything to you about dreaming that their mother is alive?" Gretchen's words were softly spoken, but she did not disguise the earnest intent behind them.

Katherine chose her words carefully. "How much do you know about what the KesPrytt did to Beverly and Jean-Luc?"

"Nothing, really," Gretchen honestly replied. "What's a KesPrytt?"

Katherine explained. When the doctor got to the part about Jean-Luc and Beverly being psychically linked during Beverly's pregnancy, Gretchen started laughing again. The image of Jean-Luc Picard suffering through morning sickness was absolutely funny.

"So that's why Jean-Luc knows so much about what Kathryn is experiencing? I mean, the man is working on becoming the most understanding husband of all time during his wife's pregnancy."

"True. But there is more to the tale." Katherine poured herself some more whiskey, though Gretchen declined the silent offer directed toward her.

"The twins were psychically connected to their parents?" Gretchen deduced.

"Yes. Almost from the very end of the first trimester. That's why they brought Lwaxana to live with them as well as hiring a Betazed nanny. The twins needed to be instructed, in utero, about how to survive as telepaths."

"Oh, the poor darlings. How confused they must have been in the early stages."

"Jean-Luc and Beverly loved them. That love anchored the twins to reality."

"And after the twins were born, Katherine?"

"The psychic links between Jean-Luc and Beverly eventually faded away. I think that in some ways, the twins are still connected to their father, though. Certainly, Anna can be very manipulative of him, at certain times. Anna reads him very well."

Gretchen paused and considered the behavior of the twins. "And were they psychically connected to their mother?"

"Privately, I thought so. But the connection was never medically established. The twins as babies, were just simply too young to be formally tested when Beverly died. Though there was an experiment that I ran when Beverly left the house, leaving Jean-Luc to babysit Anna and Billy Bob for several hours. The twins never stopped crying until their mother came home."

Gretchen finished off her drink, and then decided that maybe she did need another drink, so she poured herself a short shot. "Then why do the twins dream of Beverly? And think that she is alive?" Gretchen sat forward, placing her glass on the table. "Yesterday, Billy Bob told Kathryn that Anna dreams of the places as to where she thinks her mother is. Kathryn doesn't know what to make of the boy's words. And she doesn't want Jean-Luc to be worried, unless it becomes necessary to tell him."

Katherine placed her glass back on the table too. "They've been talking about dreaming about Beverly ever since they were toddlers, Gretchen. Ryllis thought that maybe they were subconsciously picking up on some of their father's dreams."

"That is possible. But what if their dreams are true? What if they are connected in some way to their mother?"

"Well, with what I know about Beverly Howard Crusher Picard, if there was any way for that lady to come home, she would have done so by now." Katherine looked up into the night sky. "Either Beverly is so far away that she can never come home, or the twins really are having some wishful dreams." She patted Gretchen's hand. "I know that Billy Bob and Anna have accepted Kathryn. They talk about her all the time. But, maybe they are not there yet emotionally, when it comes to loving Kathryn as a new mother. The twins have undergone quite a few changes over the past few months. It may take the twins awhile to be emotionally secure in Kathryn's love for them."

"You're probably right." Gretchen enjoyed the taste of the green whiskey again, before asking, "Well, what was Beverly really like?"

"Let me tell you the story about how Beverly gave birth. That will give you a clue as to her extraordinary character. You see, there was this earthquake, and Jean-Luc and Beverly got stuck in an elevator just as she was going into labor. Then Q showed up followed by Lwaxana, with all of them trapped in the tiny house elevator…" (A.N. You can find that tall tale in the story "De-Tached: Chapter Five: At Last My Loves Have Come Along".)

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Grand Nagus Zek tried to speak in between wheezes and gargles. "You have how many cases of tulaberry wine?" He simply could not believe that he was saying those words. Up until a few minutes ago, he had thought that there was not a bottle left in the universe of his beloved tulaberry wine.

Lwaxana smiled her most beguiling smile as she lifted the gold goblet again to Zek's trembling lips.

"I have sixteen cases. Counting this bottle, that comes to one-hundred-and-ninety-two bottles, my little lovey-dovey," she cooed. Lwaxana was getting very tired of cooing at Zek. On the other hand, if Zek was willing to sell the transwarp drive along with a large amount of solid trilithium, for those cases, Lwaxana might be able to walk away from this deal with a few of her jewels – and her dignity – intact. Heck, she'd even throw in that case of Hupyerian beetle snuff that she had acquired, just in case, for free as well.

"Be my wife," he pleaded as the thought of the Federation's laws about community property cropped into Zek's head. Up until this instant, Zek had thought that Federation males were foolish to share property with their wives. Now, as he considered cases of tulaberry wine, not to mention a female wearing a necklace that was almost equal to his net worth, by itself, it did not seem such a terrible idea after all, for he knew that Lwaxana would never become a traditional Ferengi wife. Since she was already married to some minor official of the Federation, he would divorce her after she left on board the Enterprise.

For a brief moment Zek toyed with the idea of amassing his D'Kora class marauder ships, and attacking the Enterprise but he had a feeling Ferengi Commerce Authority would not care to declare war on the Federation over bottles of wine.

"Be my wife," he whined.

"I don't think that the Ferengi Bill of Opportunities covers having two wives," Lwaxana whispered through gritted teeth. "Your wife's name is Ishka, isn't it?" Lwaxana was not overly fond of reading Zek's thoughts, especially when it came to Zek's opinion of Winston Holt Wiley's position in the universe.

"Ishka loves me. She'll gladly step aside and give me up, once she knows how much I want that wine. Oh. You. I mean, you."

"Stick with the wine," Lwaxana suggested.

"Marry me!" Zek protested as he tried to grab Lwaxana's bosom.

Lwaxana was more inclined to break the man's fingers off, one at a time. Instead, she displayed ambassadorial restraint as she casually removed the offending digits, shoving them back to Zek's chest.

"Let's make a deal," Lwaxana suggested instead. "Let's make a very, very profitable deal, for both of us…"

Zek's ears quivered even as he slid the gemstones that he'd palmed from Lwaxana's neckline, into a side pocket. "Profitable?" It was one of his favorite words.

Maybe he didn't have to make war against the Federation, after all.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: I realize that the DS9 canon timeline is going to wildly diverge with my version of events except for Zek being married to Quark's mother. But this is an a/u novel, after all.


	43. Don'cha Just Love It When a Plan Comes Together?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lwaxana returns from her diplomatic mission to see Grand Nagus Zek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. There is a little bit of nudity in this chapter. However it should come as no great surprise to you, dear reader, that the lady who is naked is Lwaxana.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 43:

"Don'cha Just Love It When a Plan Comes Together…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain William T. Riker felt like pounding his head against the nearest bulkhead. Unfortunately, that was not the proper, captainly thing to do on the bridge. For a second, he thought about running into his ready room to indulge in banging his head against a bulkhead, but that was something that Jean-Luc Picard definitely would not do. For every now and then, Captain William T. Riker did try to follow the mantra of 'What Would Jean-Luc Picard Do?', especially when it came to any lady claiming connections to the Sacred House of Rixx.

Taking a deep breath, Captain William T. Riker rose up from his captain's chair, and then responded to the somewhat panicky sounding transporter crewman's request for instructions.

"Beam the Ambassadress and Mr. Homm to their quarters. And tell her to put some clothes on!" Will commanded, not exactly surprised by the state of Lwaxana lack of dress upon her return from Ferenginar. For the lady had given him a somewhat oblique but fair warning, earlier.

"I heard that!" a slightly muffled voice yelled over the comm link. "The nude Betazed body is a magnificent work of art, Billy Boy…"

No one else ever had the guts to call the captain of the Enterprise 'Billy Boy' – not even Deanna. Will didn't have to surmise to whom that voice belonged. "Is the rest of her party still clothed?" Will just had to ask, ignoring the remainder of Lwaxana's continuing diatribe about the beauty of Betazed buck-nakedness.

"I am, Captain," Worf's voice boomed back.

"Report to the senior officer's lounge in fifteen minutes for an away mission debriefing," Captain Riker commanded.

"The Ambassadress cannot be dressed in only fifteen minutes," Worf countered.

"Don't I know it," Will mumbled under his breath before he said more clearly, "We will start the debrief without her. Or after her. Or whatever." Will Riker nobly refrained from making any comment about Lwaxana's debriefing. At least the captain of the Enterprise would have a chance to find out what really happened before Lwaxana made her presence known.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Wesley handed the padds with the transwarp drive specs to both Data and Geordi. Then he sat and patiently waited as both commanders did an examination of the information.

"Whoa…," Geordi mumbled. "Somebody solved the trilithium matrices problem…"

Data was doing a much more in-depth analysis. "Whoa, indeed," the android finally answered. He raised his head and looked at Wes across the conference table. "Without building and testing the transwarp drive according to these specifications, I cannot guarantee that it will work."

"However," Geordi added, "these designs sure do look like they should work."

"There is a ninety-three-point-eight percent chance that these designs are those of a working transwarp drive," Data calculated. He glanced toward the conference room door, for his android hearing had heard several footsteps that Data automatically identified. "I believe that Captain Riker is about to arrive."

A moment later, Captain Riker followed by Commander Worf entered the room.

"Lwaxana's not here yet?" the captain too-innocently asked.

"She might have decided which of her hundreds of pairs of earrings to wear by now," Worf grumbled.

The captain eyed his second officer. "I take it that you lost most of your gemstones to the Grand Nagus, Mr. Worf?"

"Mr. Homm glued diamonds on my bat'leth!" Worf griped.

"What did you say, Commander?" The captain wasn't quite sure what Worf had said.

"Mr. Homm decorated my sash of honor and my bat'leth with diamonds," Worf answered in a louder voice, laced with Klingonly disgust.

"Commander Worf most graciously removed the diamonds from his bat'leth and gave the diamonds to the Grand Nagus' son, Krax, for we needed his permission in order to eavesdrop on Grand Nagus Zek and Lwaxana," Wesley just had to explain with a grin on his face. Worf wearing diamonds had been one of the highlights of his day. "Commander Worf glittered ever so nicely before then."

"I didn't want the Ferengi p'tach to cut himself," Worf explained. "It might have distressed the Ambassadress." Worf growled. "But the Ferengi p'tach stole my sash!"

"I am sure that Lwaxana will be most appreciative of your charitable thoughtfulness, Number One," Will Riker observed.

"I recorded everything that I could, for Admiral Winston Holt Wiley's edification, and for posterity," Wesley just a touch too gleefully, had to add.

Worf looked even more displeased over this bit of news.

Surprised, Will asked, "How?"

"I managed to keep my gold epaulets," Wesley explained. "I had the recorder hidden in a tassel."

"So, Lwaxana really did it?" Captain Riker queried, as he leaned against the back of his armchair, relaxing a bit. He automatically poured himself some coffee from the carafe that had been sitting in front of his position.

"And then some," Wesley declare with great enthusiasm. "She negotiated an iron-clad guarantee that Grand Nagus Zek will not reveal any knowledge of the Federation acquiring the transwarp drive to anyone, be they Ferengi, Romulan or Reman on pain of bankruptcy."

"How'd she do that?" Riker just had to know.

"I'll let the Madame Ambassador explain that part of the tale. She deserves to tell you how she ensured the cooperation of Grand Nagus Zek." Wesley's expression revealed his admiration over what Lwaxana Troi had accomplished. "It was Lwaxana at her best and her most outlandish. She was amazing. Absolutely enthralling. Astonishing," Wesley enthused. "There really is a reason as to why she is a living legend. It's not just self-importance. She even got Grand Nagus Zek to sign a contract, though I am not quite so sure as to how legally binding that contract really is."

"Explain," Riker ordered.

"I'd rather show you," called out the lady as she stepped through the sliding door, followed by Mr. Homm who was escorting Deanna Troi. Lwaxana walked up to the seated Wesley, and kissed the top of his head. "I heard your flattering, kind words, Little One. Thank you."

Deanna quickly took her place next to her husband around the conference table. Even though she'd been on maternity leave for a while now, she was not about to miss any of these meetings.

Will could tell that his wife was very amused about something, even though she wasn't revealing anything, yet.

"As long as it is documented in its entirety, with witness affidavits, the contract is legal in both Ferengi and Federation courts," Lwaxana added as she walked over to the midway point of the conference. "I double-checked with Winnie's lawyers before I beamed down to see Zek."

"Mother found a rather unique way to readily get Grand Nagus Zek to agree to all of our terms," Deanna sort of burbled. Deanna could hardly wait to see Will's face when her mother displayed the contract.

"Oh, it's not that unique of a situation, my dear Deanna. This is the fourth time I've had to do something like this," Lwaxana casually mentioned.

Will Riker had had enough. "Done what?" he demanded to know.

The Betazed Ambassador turned toward her son-in-law, tugged on the shoulder ribbons of her teal colored Grecian style caftan, and dropped the gown to the floor.

The captain rose up from his chair, eyeing his naked mother-in-law in total disbelief. Whatever Riker was about to yell at Lwaxana got caught in his throat, as he watched the lady slowly turn around. "You wrote the contract on your bosom? And stomach?" the captain of the Enterprise croaked. "And your back and bottom?"

"Mr. Homm did my back," the lady added. "And then Grand Nagus Zek finished off and then signed my fanny."

"You couldn't replicate any paper?" Will sarcastically asked as he pointedly looked at the replicator in the wall.

"It would have spoiled the line of my dress. You saw what I looked like before. Where would I have put the pen?"

Will sat back down, knowing that there was no point in debating this point with his mother-in-law. He glanced toward the other officers in the room. Wesley Crusher did not seem surprised at all. Commander Worf appeared to have more of a deeper, long-suffering-look than usual, but as always, that really was always hard to judge when it came to this Klingon. And Mr. Data just looked like he was doing whatever needed to be done in spite of the dramatic revelation.

"Every line has been properly documented," Mr. Data announced as he pushed a few more buttons on his padd. "And after ascertaining that such a document is legal within the constricts of the Ferengi Bill of Opportunities, I have seconded and confirmed Grand Nagus Zek filing of the contract, under the Ferengi version of 'top secret', as well."

Will just shook his head in disbelief as realization struck. For Lwaxana had found the perfect way to confuse the public if any of these somewhat questionable negotiations became public news. Who would pay attention to the details of such a negotiation, when the public would have the vids of a naked Ambassador to Betazed upon which they would focus? Especially since she was Winston Holt Wiley's wife and a well-known diplomatic celebrity in her own right. In a way, Will Riker almost admired Lwaxana for her audacious solution to a potential future problem.

All Deanna calmly requested was, "Mother, put your clothes on." Her mother complied, though she was rather willing to stay au naturel if needs be.

Will leaned into the back of his armchair again, pinched the bridge of his nose, waggled his fingers in the general direction of everybody, and ordered, "Report."

Naturally, Lwaxana was the first one to speak. "I went down to the Nagus palace at the Tower of Commerce, prepared to bargain away all my gemstones as well as those on my entourage. That was a given. I knew that the Nagus could not turn down tripling his wealth, especially with untraceable authentic gemstones. Zek is too greedy a little man. Besides, the Ferengi were only viewing the transwarp drive as a means to make more profit, and not for its potential military use."

Wesley quickly spoke up. "The Grand Nagus gave as a gift to Lwaxana for her gemstone generosity, his personal yacht which has a functioning transwarp drive. Zek also gave us the spec designs in exchange for everything. I went on a test run with one of the Ferengi marauder pilots to ascertain that the ship's transwarp drive worked. It does."

"We have a transwarp drive yacht in our shuttle bay?" Will did not quite believe he was saying those words out loud.

"I parked it in Shuttle Bay Two, and placed it under diplomatic lockdown," Wesley clarified. "Sir, as soon as this meeting is over, Commanders LaForge, Data as well as myself, will triple check and document everything about the yacht during our first assessment. Geordi will then let loose his engineers." Wesley grinned. "And then, if you wish, you can come and see for yourself, Captain. It's going to take us a while to figure out what everything is. There are some controls and oddities on board the yacht that I believe that only a Ferengi could love or could find a use for."

"This I am going to have to see that when you are ready to show me," a now more composed starship captain replied.

Lwaxana did not like the fact that everyone's attention was turning away from the heroine of the day. "Getting the transwarp drive as well as a cargo hold of solid trilithium was easy," she forcefully announced.

"Then what was the difficult part?" Geordi asked with a naivety that was typical for the engineer.

Deanna decided that Geordi played straight man to her mother way too well. She was going to have to speak to her friend about that in private.

"Convincing Zek not to sell us out to the next Romulan that might cross his path," Lwaxana tartly answered. "That is what took the hours of negotiating."

"And?" Will patiently asked.

"Tulaberry wine." Lwaxana knew that her son-in-law did not quite understand. "Before I left Earth, I did some research into what Grand Nagus Zek prized and valued more than anything else in this universe. It turns out that it is tulaberry wine. And since it just so happened that I had sixteen cases of that abomination that calls itself a wine, in Holt's dusty old wine cellar, I finally found a use for the sickly-sweet stuff other than serving it at one of my soirees as an incentive, in order to get boring guests to quickly leave."

"You gave Grand Nagus Zek sixteen cases of his favorite wine?" Geordi asked, puzzled. He was not quite connecting the dots.

"No, Little One." Lwaxana leaned over and patted Geordi's arm. "I only gave Zek two bottles. That's what the contract that he signed on my body is all about."

Will said nothing, for most of this day's events had crossed over into the highly improbably and truly bizarre, the moment the lady had dropped her gown.

"Uh," Geordi mumbled, still rather confused.

"For the next one-hundred-and-eighty-nine months, every month, a Federation starship will deliver to Grand Nagus Zek one bottle of tulaberry wine, as long as he keeps his mouth shut about giving the Federation the transwarp drive." Lwaxana then waggled her upraised hand toward Mr. Homm who was standing in a corner. The manservant quickly went over to his mistress and pulled out a medium size flask from his pocket and then gave it to Lwaxana. The lady then drank quite a bit before she placed the flask on the table.

Deanna could only sympathetically squeeze her husband's knee under the table, for she could sense his mood – and his great exasperation with her mother's actions, in spite of the fact that she had been successful.

With a calmness that belied his mental agitation, Will politely asked, "Lwaxana, you obtained a transwarp drive ship, solid trilithium fuel, and a confidentiality agreement with the head of the Ferengi in exchange for a fortune and a bottle of wine every month?"

"That about sums it up," Lwaxana agreed. "I'll make arrangements with Winnie to have that bottle of wine delivered on time. Winnie will probably have to order at least an Intrepid class starship to do it with fanfares, too. Zek does like his pomp," she mentioned, "almost as much as Winnie does." Then Lwaxana's attitude changed. "This may all seem ridiculous, but literally, the fate of the Federation hangs on Zek getting his bottle of wine each month for the next fifteen years and nine months." She picked up the flask again, but only took a small sip before capping it. "And, when the information that the Federation has a functioning warp drive becomes general knowledge, I'll deliver the rest of the tulaberry wine to Zek, assuming of course, that this Grand Nagus is still alive. I certainly don't want to imbibe the sludge. I will never be in that great of a need for a drink."

"Of course." The captain of the Enterprise did not quite know what else to say.

"Befuddled?" Lwaxana suggested as she sensed her son-in-law's thoughts with amusement. "There is more. I read Zek's thoughts quite a few times. And once I got past all the salacious, sexist and revolting demeaning stuff, I learned a few things."

"About the identities of those who are using the transwarp drive?" Commander Data inquired.

"That's part of it. Officially, the Ferengi government is not involved with the Orion Pirates and the disappearing ships. However, there are several Ferengi unaffiliated consortiums that are working with those pirates. Zek gets a kickback from those consortiums rather than from the pirates." She took another sip from her flask. "And 'Orion' is a freely used, loose term to label those pirates. They are best described as a wide variety of bands of criminals who somehow acquired transwarp technology that they are using for their own profit – and to possibly take over and then control the known universe, too."

"What?" Lwaxana's words startled the captain.

"The transwarp drive needs solid trilithium to function properly. And their ain't much of the stuff being mined in the Alpha Quadrant," the lady patiently explained.

"A Reman planet seems to be the only known source," Data confirmed. "It is…"

"Well, that is where you are wrong, Mr. Data," Lwaxana announced as she interrupted the android. Again. "Somewhere in the Epsilon Quadrant, are solar systems with planets and moons that have huge solid trilithium deposits. Dilithium, too. Zek was practically cackling with glee every time he thought about his share of the profits from those mines when they materialize." Lwaxana looked down at her daughter. "Though the pirates were targeting ships with telepaths for the baser reasons, they were also targeting large civilian transport ships, too. Mainly non-Federation which is why you rarely heard about the disappearances of those ships with their passengers and crews, Will. The pirates were looking for slave labor to mine the trilithium mines."

"And whoever controls the solid trilithium, controls the transwarp ships," Wesley whispered as he began to comprehend the scope of everything. "And then, they really could put a stranglehold on the Federation and just about anybody else with a transwarp drive in the known universe."

"Not likely," Lwaxana countered. "Zek seems to think that all of the differing pirate factions can't even agree on a name to call themselves, much less agree to a plan on conquering the universe together, soon. That's where the Ferengis come in."

"How so?" Geordi was still a little confused.

"The Ferengi are their bankers. And we all are now too-familiar with the convoluted nature of Ferengi banking. The pirate syndicates can't even begin to really comprehend the complexity of them. Which is why Zek is pretty sure that they won't ever go after Ferenginar. The pirates would never find out where their latinum was, if they did so."

The door to the conference slid open.

"Someone decided to throw a party, and forget to invite me?" Quark nonchalantly asked as he sauntered in and then grabbed the closest empty chair, sat down and then waited to see if Captain Riker would toss him out.

Worf grrred.

"Mr. Quark." Data politely nodded at the Ferengi as he noted that his captain seemed inclined not to throw the barkeep out of the room.

Quark took a deep breath, and then casually asked, "Care to hear the gossip?"

"Out with it, Quark," Will ordered. For clearly this Ferengi had some information to impart.

"I've been talking to my friends, bribing some of my sources, bartering with others… You know the sort of things I do, Captain Riker," Quark pleasantly remarked.

"Indeed, I do, Mr. Quark. And all of us, not to mention my husband who is the head of Starfleet, are so very indebted to you," Lwaxana quickly spoke up since Will Riker did not seem inclined to do so.

Quark's ears slightly quivered when he heard the word 'indebted'. It was one of his favorite words when it meant latinum pouring into his bank accounts, instead of the reverse. "Well, if you must know what I've heard…"

Will Riker interrupted the man. "Get to the point, Quark." Deanna kicked her husband's ankle. It took the captain a moment to interpret the glare that his wife sent him too. "That is, Mr. Quark, if you would be so kind as to tell us what you have learned."

Quark deliberately turned away from facing the captain, and sent a pointed look in the direction of Mr. Homm.

"Mr. Homm, please provide my friend with something to drink," Lwaxana politely requested of her servant.

Quark inspected the blue bottle that Mr. Homm had removed from an inner pocket of his ecru metallic woven robes and had placed in front of him. "Hmmm. Vulcan ale. My favorite."

Everyone's eyebrows raised a bit when they all heard Mr. Homm chuckle out loud over Mr. Quark's little quip.

Quark poured himself a drink into the glass that Wes had quickly provided.

"And the gossip, Mr. Quark?" Lwaxana sweetly asked.

"Well, the best rumor is that you are enamored with Grand Nagus Zek – madly, passionately and quite crazily in love. And that you offered him a fortune to divorce my mother, in order to bribe Zek into marrying you." Quark took a long drink of his blue beer.

For a moment Lwaxana was speechless as she contemplated 'quite crazily in love'. "And what of my first husband if I were to marry Zek?" Lwaxana too-sweetly asked.

"Oh, that is going to be the chief reason for the war between Ferenginar and the Federation," Quark blithely replied. "I believe some were calling it the 'Lwaxana of Troi' war."

"That had to come from somebody at the Federation Embassy," Dr. Selar sarcastically observed.

"Indeed, you are correct," Quark readily agreed. He lifted his glass. "And thank you for the Vulcan ale, Doc. We should talk business, some time." With this, he glugged another glug.

"Anything else?" a somewhat constrained captain asked, for Deanna was gripping his upper thigh. And she had sharp nails.

"Well, other variations of the Lwaxana theme, include Zek starting a harem with my mother and the ambassadress agreeing to share Zek's bed together…"

Lwaxana snorted. Loudly.

Quark continued. "Lwaxana bribing my mother to leave." Quark eyed the Betazed. "Apparently the Ambassadress is a lot wealthier than what any of the Ferengi bankers had assessed her to be. And trust me, Ferengi bankers rarely make that kind of error when it comes to determining someone's creditworthiness." Quark nodded at Lwaxana. "Clever lady."

Lwaxana gave Quark a slight, acknowledging smile.

Captain Riker had had enough. "And what of rumors about the transwarp drive?"

Quark put down his glass. "Is that what I really should have been checking for? Haven't heard a word about a transwarp drive. Nary a word. Or a Tanugian whisper. Didn't even know that we had a transwarp drive until I saw Grand Nagus Zek's yacht in the hangar bay." Quark shook his head. "The only rumor I heard about the yacht was that Zek had given the yacht to Lwaxana as a consolation gift after rejecting her advances, for Zek swears that his true love is my mother, Ishka." Quark politely but apologetically smiled at the ship's captain. "According to Krax, Lwaxana complained that she could not spend another minute on board this starship with a son-in-law who mistreated her so…"

"What?" Lwaxana screeched as Quark's babbling was comprehended. "Zek rejected me? Why that droopy-lobed, slimy Denebian smarmy son-of-a…"

"Mother!" Deanna interrupted, as she dug her nails so deeply into her husband's thigh through his pant leg, that she drew blood. "MOTHER!" This time, Deanna loudly screamed it.

"What?" Lwaxana was confused but only for a moment. Then she understood. OH!" Lwaxana screeched. "Deanna's in labor!"

TBC


	44. The Concern of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay moves into the guest house. Icheb learns he has a friend.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 44:

The Concern of Friends

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"How is he?"

"Sleeping."

A moment later, another person approached, as Dr. Katherine Pulaski tried to traverse the path to the big house without running into any more concerned Voyagers. She couldn't dodge Lieutenant Tal Celes either.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping."

The moment Dr. Pulaski reached the library doors, and pulled them open, a voice called out through the dimness of the room from by the desk, "I know that Chakotay is sleeping, Doctor. But, how is he?"

Catherine plopped herself down onto the comfortable armchair by the oak desk, and then decided to answer Kathryn Janeway's question.

"Changing locations can be stressful on a patient especially one who was as severely traumatized as Captain Chakotay. But Chakotay weathered the transition from Starfleet Medical to your guest house, very well. Phrynne and that nurse that Jean-Luc hired, are with him at the moment. The moment he is awake, you will be notified." Katherine stretched, and longingly eyed the globe of the world that hid Jean-Luc's private stash of liquor bottles. But it was a bit too early in the day for Katherine to indulge – at least, not when she was technically still on duty. If it had been her off day, then her desire for a brandy would have had another resolution, indeed.

"Amelyss is technically a nurse. However, she's also a third-year medical student from Betazed who has transferred over to Starfleet Medical and is supposed to start in the fall," Kathryn explained. "Plus, she is also Ryllis' granddaughter who is going to be living at Picard House for at least the next year. I believe that my EMH arranged for Amelyss' duties to include taking care of Chakotay. You'll have to ask him about the details."

"I will. Though the girl seems more than competent enough. And I am sure that Phrynne will keep an eye on her too." Katherine stretched, and tried to force herself to relax. She'd been on edge, trying to keep an eye on all the potential problems that her patient, Captain Chakotay, had to endure from his injuries. The past few days had been difficult though it was not Captain Chakotay that had been the problem outside of his medical issues. It had been all of his 'friends', family and of course, the ever-pressing press hounding her that had been the real stress inducers. A moment to unwind was welcomed indeed.

Then Katherine leaned forward and rested an arm on the desk as she took note of what was on the terminal screen. "Tell me, do you Voyagers have your own private comm network?"

"Of course, Katherine. Tom Paris set it up years ago on the ship. And then Harry Kim expanded it before we returned to Earth." She nodded toward her terminal. "That's what I'm doing now – posting a report on Chakotay's arrival here at Picard House. I'll write more, once he is awake and talking."

"If you'd give me the access code, I can post daily updates too," Katherine suggested.

"Of course," Kathryn readily agreed. "Then you can answer all the medical questions, instead of me fumbling through them. Thank you."

"Your welcome," Dr. Pulaski replied, trying not to sound overtly sarcastic.

Kathryn Janeway knew better, though.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

There were two pairs of boots sticking out from under the Picard marital bed. Kathryn stood in the doorway staring at the pairs of boots and at the legs to which they were attached.

One pair she recognized, for she often seen Brawny wearing them about the grounds. But the other pair of boots, seemed to be standard issue cadet boots.

"Bronislawa?" she called out as she entered her bedroom.

"Down here, Admiral," was the cheery response.

The other pair of legs shoved themselves out from under the bed.

"Icheb!" Kathryn greeted the owner of those boots, hugging him, for she was very glad to see the young man. "What are you doing here?" For it was not every day that she found uninvited guests in her bedroom, other than the twins, that is.

"Commander Torres volunteered my services to install some sort of anti-grav hologrid on your half of the bed, since she is currently unavailable to leave the UP," the former Borg drone explained.

Kathryn Janeway did not want to figure out how they knew which 'half' of the bed was hers, for that implied a familiarity with her private life that could give her a headache if she tried to figure it out.

"The poor cadet had to go looking for the contraption, too," Brawny explained as she pulled herself from under the bed too. "Initially, Cherry S'Rock had the hologrid during her third trimester. And when she was done with it, she gave it to me for my third trimester." She grinned. "And now, I'm giving it back to you." She stood and picked up a padd that appeared to be the instructions. "Fortunately, I've got several advanced engineering degrees behind my name, and Icheb is currently taking a course on holodeck engineering. Between the two of us, we should have Wesley's invention functioning within a few hours."

"Thank you," Kathryn readily replied as she touched her stomach. "I am looking forward to using it. Need any help?"

Icheb and Brawny's eyes immediately focused on Kathryn's expanding stomach.

"Not really, Admiral," Icheb quickly said, for he remembered what his former captain was like when someone told her not to do something on board Voyager.

Brawny understood the lady's desire to be doing something while waiting to hear more about Captain Chakotay. "You want to grab a chair and read us some of the instructions? I really don't want to lift up the mattress since we have to connect quite a few thingamajiggies to the underside."

Kathryn stifled her laugh. "B'Elanna Torres would have loved to have had you in her engineering department," she teased. "You speak her language."

Brawny laughed right back. "I wonder how I will do with Geordi LaForge as my boss, instead? Once I am off my maternity leave, I am supposed to be posted to the Enterprise for at least one tour of duty."

"You're going to the Enterprise? How exciting," Kathryn remarked, knowing that this lady must be very, very smart if Geordi had requested her for his engineering department.

"But what am I going to do with my daughter?" Brawny mentioned as she could see that question was forming on the admiral's face.

"Well, life in Starfleet can be difficult on children," Kathryn softly said, as she remembered what life had been like with her own father who had been absent for so many years when he had been an admiral.

Brawny shook her head. "Ludvig has offered to come with me and our daughter. Captain Riker has certainly pleaded his case on occasion for needing a good, captain's chef. But, Ludvig is reluctant to leave here, too. He's been with the admiral a very long time. And he is very fond of life here at Picard House. I suppose I could leave little Bevie with her father, but I don't know if I could last a duty tour without seeing her."

"One of the more difficult challenges of life in Starfleet," Kathryn observed as she privately thought about how much she would miss the Ludvigs if they all went to the Enterprise.

Kathryn read the instructions on the padd and was about to make a suggestion when Icheb spoke up from underneath the bed. "We need to get some anti-grav units to lift this mattress and the bed frame up about four meters.

"That might be a problem," Brawny observed."

"Why?" Icheb called back.

"It's a four-poster bed and there is not enough ceiling clearance," Kathryn answered. She stood and then examined the way the posters were connected to the footboard. "Maybe we could detach the footboard and move it into the room and then put the anti-grav units in place to lift the mattress." She leaned over and checked the footboard construction. "That should work. I'll go get my tool kit." With that, the admiral left the room.

"Uh oh," Brawny remarked as they both crawled out from under the bed. "We'd better get the footboard disconnected before the admiral comes back. Otherwise, she will insist on assisting us."

"For someone who has only spent a few months in the presence of Admiral Janeway, you have an excellent grasp of her character," Icheb remarked as he started to detach the first attached poster.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"May I come in?" a slightly-hesitant Ludvig asked as he entered the guest house through an open patio door.

"Come," Amelyss answered as she assisted Chakotay into sitting upright.

Phrynne assessed the condition of her patient and moved a bed table closer to the side of the mattress. "Chakotay, you can sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed," she announced to her patient. "But I am not letting you out of bed until tonight, if you do as you are told."

"Tyrant," Chakotay mumbled under his breath as he carefully moved into position, ignoring all the aches and pains that any movement caused him. His spine, hips and legs were especially painful today, but he wasn't quite ready to request a pain killer. Still, he forced himself to sit upright.

"I heard that," Phrynne pleasantly stated.

Ludvig approached bearing a large silver tray with a soup tureen, a sliced and buttered toasted baguette, a bowl of strawberries with cream, a carafe of spice tea and a glass of non-alcoholic apple cider.

"That looks good," Amelyss remarked as she watched Chakotay remove his napkin from the tray and place it on his lap. Without saying anything, the nurse picked up Chakotay's napkin and tucked it into the neckline of his navy blue striped pajama top.

"I ate breakfast at Starfleet Medical," Chakotay announced, as he watched Ludvig place the tray on his bed table, and then lift up the lid to the small tureen. The aroma that wafted from it caught Chakotay's attention. So instead of saying that he wasn't hungry, Chakotay tentatively asked, "Mushroom soup?"

"My secret recipe that I developed from when I apprenticed at the Justices' restaurant in the Federation Interstellar Court of Justice at The Hague. Four different kinds of mushrooms, my special cheeses, cream of course, and just a soupcon of brandy are some of the ingredients in this soup." Ludvig broadly smiled. "I promise you, Captain, you have never had a mushroom soup like this one before." Then the man grinned. "And the best part of your lunch is that Dr. Pulaski approved every bit of it."

Chakotay couldn't resist the smell, and he carefully picked up a silver cream soup spoon and tasted the soup. His hand trembled a bit, but he managed to slurp every drop of soup from the round bowl of the spoon.

His smile told Ludvig all that he needed to know about whether or not that captain liked the soup. "I have over one hundred different vegetarian mushroom soup recipes that I wish to try," the chef added, as he watched the man enjoy his soup.

"Am I really going to be here that long, Phrynne?" Chakotay asked between taking a spoonful of soup. "To taste one hundred different mushroom soups?" Though he didn't exactly dislike the possibility of that.

"Probably," Phrynne cheerfully replied, "unless you are a difficult patient during your recovery, and then it will be for an even lengthier period of time." She walked over to Ludvig standing by the bed table and swiped a strawberry off of the tray. "Where do you get so many different mushrooms?" she just had to ask Ludvig, as she munched.

"Admiral Winston Holt Wiley gave me permission to harvest whatever I wished from the underground mushroom caverns, farms and mycelium experiments at the Starfleet fungiculture facilities in Michigan. Admiral Wiley has his own private mushroom log sections for his personal chef's use. Though I tend to stay away from the alien fungi…"

Realizing that this chef could drone on for hours about mushrooms, Phrynne turned toward her patient and interrupted the talkative chef. "Doesn't that sound wonderful, Captain Chakotay? You'll never get bored with the meals around here."

"Most certainly not!" Ludvig protested. "Admiral Janeway gave me very specific instructions about Captain Chakotay's preferences when it comes to what he likes to eat. And I'll keep adding his favorites as well as tempting him with many of my specialties, as soon as any of his doctors okay the menu additions." With a smile, the chef added, "I am particularly acclaimed for my desserts. The Admiral did say something about you having a sweet tooth, Captain Chakotay."

Chakotay declined to make any kind of comment about what the admiral had told the chef. He would discuss that matter when he saw Kathryn again. Instead, he took a hesitant sip of his apple cider. "It really is cider." He sounded rather pleased as well as surprised, with that fact. And privately, he was touched that Kathryn had remembered what he liked to eat and drink.

"From Château Picard, of course," Ludvig happily explained. "If there is a certain type of apple that you would prefer as cider, or a special blend of apple juices, you just have to let me know."

Phrynne just had to add, "And when you have improved enough, the EMH might even let you have some of your favorite cider alcoholic versions."

Chakotay nodded. "Something to look forward to, thought I doubt that the Picard family grows Antarian apples."

"Maybe they do," Ludvig slyly remarked.

"Now, that is an incentive," Phrynne just had to add.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The lavender garden was lovely, Kathryn Janeway decided as she slowly walked the winding path through the fragrant plants and flower borders, that would eventually lead into the large maze.

Her companion stopped for a moment and bent over to sniff a lavender spike. "It smells like your mother," Icheb observed. "It is a pleasant scent."

"It's a very ancient plant," Kathryn informed the young cadet. "Lavender as an herb, a medicine or a scent has been around for over a millennium. Medieval castles had lavender in their gardens."

They walked a bit more before Kathryn decided to sit down on a bench which was supported by stylized Bengarian style flamingo form legs. The bench was located under a Jacarandan Betazed transplanted shade tree, and offered those who would make use of its broad protective coverage from the sun, a pleasant vista of the ocean.

"I'm supposed to gently exercise, but my swollen ankles do not always agree," Kathryn explained.

"Should I contact Dr. Pulaski?" a concerned Icheb asked as he inspected the lady's ankle size.

"I am not quite at that point just yet," Kathryn replied, trying by her very manner to calm Icheb down.

They sat there for a while, in peace. Kathryn could tell that Icheb was having difficulty in actually doing nothing, for sitting still was not part of his basic nature.

"I've been reading the reports of your academic progress," Kathryn softly remarked. "Every one of your professors and teachers have nothing but praise for your accomplishments and advancements. Which, of course, is something that I knew would happen based on the way that you tackled your studies on board Voyager."

"I suppose I am sufficient," a rather subdued Icheb responded.

"But?" For Kathryn knew that there was an unvoiced 'but' behind that statement.

"It is so foreign, at times, Admiral. I had not realized how much I would miss Voyager and my friends – my family. It's taken all these months just for my science labmates to not expect me to assimilate them every time we have a disagreement about a project."

"Maybe if you can get through a term without assimilating anyone, some of your astral science teammates might start trusting you."

Icheb knew that the admiral was teasing him, but it really didn't make a difference as to how he felt. He sighed. "And I am still lodged in a room all by myself since I still need to regenerate. And a lot of my fellow cadets don't quite understand why I am getting such preferential treatment."

"I could ask Jean-Luc to look into getting you a roommate for next semester," Kathryn suggested. "As I recall, your Borg regeneration station doesn't make too much noise when you are using it, so maybe it won't disturb a roommate."

"There is a low hum about megahertz 440 when I am regenerating, Admiral. It is usually at thirty decibels. Someone species with sensitive hearing, might object to the hum. And then there is the green lighting."

"Think about doing it, Icheb. Make a list of potential roommates – maybe one of the cadets with whom you are friends?"

"Annika says that I should be wary of any cadet that offers friendship. They may have an agenda of their own."

Kathryn's breath hitched. "Annika? You've been in touch with Annika?" She would counter Annika's point-of-view about friends at a later time.

"After Annika came to say goodbye to me before she left for Vulcan, she has been in contact with me at least once a week, usually on Sunday evenings at about 1830 hours." Icheb could see that the admiral was distressed by this information. "Is there a problem, Admiral? Should I not be communicating with Annika?"

"No, there is no problem, Icheb. You can always talk to whomsoever you wish to speak to. I am just surprised, that's all," Kathryn explained. "As near as I can tell, you are the only person to whom Annika said goodbye when she left."

Icheb deduced by the sadness that he detected in his former captain's voice, that she was unhappy that Annika had not made her farewells to her – or to anyone else.

"Annika enquires about everyone once in a while, when she does call," Icheb clarified, as he tried to find the words to cheer his admiral up.

Kathryn nodded, silently pleased that Icheb was acquiring some more empathetic social skills. He was learning. His words, however, were not that comforting.

"Would you do me a favor, Icheb?"

"Of course, Admiral. Anything."

"The next time you speak to Annika, ask her if I may contact her on Vulcan."

"Of course, Admiral."

Ordinarily, Kathryn Janeway would have told a former crewman to call her 'Kathryn' at this point of a conversation, but cadet protocol issues were another matter entirely. Fortunately, the former Borg drone seemed to understand this matter of protocol as well.

She patted his arm. "Icheb, you do know that if you wish to talk about anything, or have a problem of some sort, you can always come to me. I can be your friend, your mentor, or your superior officer. Or even just someone who can answer those questions that you feel that you cannot ask anyone else."

"Such as why the mashed potatoes are always lumpy when you order them from the dorm replicators, and yet are smooth from any other replicator?" Icheb was learning a bit, about how to have a sense of humor.

"Well, considering my relationship with replicators, I would not suggest using myself as a someone to test that theory. Personally, I have always thought that the dorm replicators have gremlins."

"What's a gremlin?"

"Think Neelix, but a lot tinier," Kathryn joked, "which would also explain the way the food turns out."

"Fortunately, those gremlins have yet to discover the many uses of leola root," Icheb ruefully remarked as he recalled the many moments of dislike of leola root comradeship he had shared in the mess hall on board ship.

She laughed. Then her expression softened, as she patted his shoulder. "Whatever you need, Icheb, I will always be there for you." She briefly hugged him much to the surprise of Icheb.

Icheb was not given to visible displays of emotion, but he was truly touched and deeply appreciated his former captain's offer of friendship and help. She had offered before, but then he had suspected it was because Admiral Janeway thought that it was the right thing to do. Now, he truly understood. Kathryn Janeway really meant what she had said. She was his friend.

"Thank you, Admiral."

TBC


	45. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baby is coming! The Baby is coming! (BEG)

TV Shows » StarTrek: The Next Generation » DETACHED: JEAN-LUC: HIS STORY  
Author: mabb5 «   
Rated: T - English - Family/Romance - Reviews: 71 - Published: 08-29-16 - Updated: 08-05-17 id:12124776  
DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 45:

Almost There

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The captain of the Enterprise stood there, frozen next to his conference chair in the senior officer's conference room. He was at a crossroads of indecision, a condition that he had rarely experienced in his adult life, especially as a Starfleet officer. He was unsure. Will Riker genuinely did not know what to do next after Dr. Selar had beamed his wife over to Sickbay.

William T. Riker was disturbed. His sense of duty dictated that he should immediately go to his ready room and report to Admiral Winston Holt Wiley. But his first and dominant instinct was to follow his heart. He only wanted to be in one place – holding Deanna's hand as she labored to deliver their child.

He was so focused on his indecisiveness that he didn't hear the doors to the conference room slide open.

A gentle, soothing voice startled him.

"Go to Deanna, Will."

Will jerked in surprise as he stared at Guinan standing by the doorway, wearing dark lapis robes and one of her matching trapezoid hats.

He said the first stupid thing that popped into his head. "Guinan! When did you get back? No one reported to me that you were back on board!"

"I hitched a ride back with Q." She replied with an implied sense of indulgence and understanding. She could sense how conflicted her friend was.

"So that's why Lwaxana's gown was as tasteful as it was," he cynically observed.

She ignored his gibe as she glided over to him and placed her hand on his arm and then squeezed it, trying to share with him her sense of calmness. "Go, Will. Make sure Deanna is all right. And then, when she is, go make your report. Even Winnie will understand why you put your wife first – that is, if you're dumb enough to tell him the chronological order of things." Guinan's grin was far from angelic.

There was a moment's hesitation, but he knew that the words that his barkeep spoke were true. And then the captain of the ship bopped his comm badge and ordered, "Beam me directly to Sickbay."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"About time that you got here," Lwaxana tartly remarked as Will Riker made his appearance by Deanna's bedside.

Will ignored his mother-in-law. He reached for Deanna's left hand with his left hand. And with his right hand, he lovingly stroked a stray curl away from his beloved's face.

"Deanna," he whispered as he bent down over her to kiss her forehead, willing her to feel what he felt for her.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at her husband, appreciating his concern. "I'm between contractions," she whispered.

"If anyone is interested, I do have something to report," a slightly acerbic Dr. Selar observed, as she walked up to the foot of the bed. She quickly pivoted to glare at Lwaxana as if she had just read the lady's mind. "And no, I will not give you any opioids just because you claim to be sharing your daughter's labor pains."

Lwaxana was about to give this impertinent Vulcaness a set-down when suddenly she grimaced just as Deanna screamed again.

Will looked over at Lwaxana in surprise. His mother-in-law actually was sharing Deanna's labor pains. "Does sharing the pain help Deanna?" he quickly asked as he tried to find the rationale behind Lwaxana's willingness to undergo such pain.

"Yes," Lwaxana gasped between pants and cries.

He knelt by the side of his wife's bed, still clutching her hand. "Deanna, Love. Link with me. Let me alleviate some of your pain like we practiced in the birthing classes. We created this baby together. Let's bring her into the world together too."

Deanna opened her eyes again, and weakly smiled. "I will do just that when the time comes," she whispered.

"When the time comes? What do you mean?" Will Riker was a bit confused at the moment.

"We're only at the beginning stage, papa-to-be," Dr. Selar remarked as she kept a watchful eye on Deanna's monitors. "We've got a long way to go before your daughter makes her debut." She pulled out hypospray and pressed it against Deanna's neck. "That will ease the pain a little, for now," she announced.

"You said that you had some news about my wife's condition?" Will visibly saw that his wife was beginning to relax. So, he did too.

"Yes, Deanna's dilation is at six centimeters. It is going to be several more hours before this baby is born the old-fashioned way." Dr. Selar checked her medical tricorder. "At least five hours. Maybe more."

"Can't you just beam the baby out?" Lwaxana complained. "I cannot stand to see my daughter in pain."

"No!" Deanna protested. "I want to deliver this baby the way I did Ian! I don't want to take the easy way out!"

"Oh, for Rixx's sake, why not?" Lwaxana argued. "That's how I had you! And the Holy Chalice only knows, in the years that came afterwards, I never once wished that I had experienced all the rigors of the pain of childbirth."

From over in a corner, a gong sounded, echoing a fairly loud noise about the birthing room.

Startled, Dr. Selar turned and yelled, "Out!" at poor Mr. Homm, who was only doing what he had been instructed to do by his mistress.

"The ceremonial gonging of the gong is a Betazoid tradition!" Lwaxana argued, as she took offence over the doctor's interference.

"Your gong has been gonged!" Dr. Selar argued right back. "You've honored your tradition. Now, get it out of here!"

"My daughter wants the gong here!" Lwaxana yelled.

Dr. Selar glanced down at her patient. Deanna shook her head in denial.

"Obviously not," a somewhat triumphant Dr. Selar disputed.

Will Riker however, was not a hapless husband. He tried a little bit of his peacekeeping skills to see if he could get his mother-in-law to cooperate on her own. "Lwaxana, what Deanna needs is peace and quiet right now, and whenever we can offer that to her. Even I can sense her continuing pain. Please don't add to her discomfort," a surprisingly diplomatic Will Riker stated as he tried to calm everyone down in the room. For it was not often that as a Starfleet officer, he would ever have to cope with a contentious Vulcaness as well as a very difficult Betazed at the same time.

"He's right," Dr. Selar quite firmly stated. "Captain Riker is right."

A somewhat surprised Lwaxana stood up, sniffed, considered her son-in-law's words, and then asked everyone in general in the room, "Since when do Vulcan doctors lose their tempers?"

"This Vulcan doctor does lose her temper when it comes to protecting her patients," Dr. Selar caustically retorted. "I was not raised on Vulcan and therefore saw no need to learn to repress my emotions all of the time – especially in my Sickbay." Her glare at Lwaxana was a warning. "Anyway, it's time to leave the parents-to-be alone for a little while. They need their privacy." Dr. Selar walked over to the door, watched it slide open and then she glared at Lwaxana and Mr. Homm. "Shoo!" She waved her hands toward the open doorway.

Somewhat stunned by this action, Lwaxana actually complied. "Oh well, I've got something to take care of, anyway," she huffed as she strode out of the birthing room, with Mr. Homm following in her wake.

"That was too easy," Deanna observed even as she momentarily reveled in the feelings of her husband's concern. She knew this temporary peace would disappear the moment the next contraction struck.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

A few minutes later, Lwaxana Troi-Wiley strode onto the bridge of the Enterprise as if she owned the darn starship. Mr. Worf was not exactly that surprised to see her. He was even less surprised when she entered the captain's ready room as if she owned that too. There were some things in the universe that were constants. The behavior of Lwaxana Troi-Wiley was one of them.

A moment later, the ambassadress stuck her head through the opening ready room doors. "Mr. Woof, please get me a secure channel to my husband." She disappeared back into the ready room as the doors slid shut, not bothering to wait for Mr. Worf's response. Mr. Worf shook his head in acknowledgement and acceptance that the ambassadress would only call him by his proper name when she wished to do so, and that all of his grumbling and reminders would not change her mind one little bit.

He buzzed the lady when the connection went through.

"Lwaxana," a somewhat surprised Winston Holt Wiley remarked as he took in the sight of his wife wearing something very slinky in teal. He had always liked that color on his bride. "How nice of you to finally return my call."

She eyed her husband, deducing that he was at home in his playroom in the basement of their mansion. Since that room was also the most secure and protected room in the whole house, when it had to be, all she stated was, "I've got a bit of news." She didn't have to worry about the security of the connection.

He perked up. "What?"

"We are about to become grandparents. Deanna went into labor right after I returned from Ferenginar."

"So that's why you are using Will's ready room," Wiley cheerfully observed. Wiley had no problem with his wife confiscating his captain's ready room. Besides, Winston was very fond of his step-daughter-in-law especially since Deanna seemed to actually like his company, in contrast to his own children who tended to always be located a galaxy or two away from wherever he was. Besides, Deanna was giving him his first grandchild, and that was a momentous occasion in and of itself.

"And I have a gift for you, too," Lwaxana coyly added, for she could see that her husband was now in a good mood.

"A present?" He usually appreciated Lwaxana's presents to him. She had a very inventive mind when it came to gift giving. She had a generous nature, too.

"Yes. I got you a yacht of your very own." She pleasantly smiled as she waited in anticipation for his interrogation to start.

"A yacht of my own? I've already got four admiral's yachts. What do I need with another one, Loxie?" he grumbled. Privately, he had been hoping for something a little more personal from his wife.

"Oh, you will love this yacht, my wily one." She batted her eyelashes over he little pun. She didn't call him that often, so because she had used 'wily', she was telling her husband that what was coming was good. Very good. "This yacht is very, very special." She bestowed on her husband her most loving smile as she explained, "It's got a little ole transwarp drive – that works." Wiley's eyes widened in shock. "The ship also has a cargo hold full of solid trilithium, and brings with it a very clever non-disclosure agreement that I personally wrote with Grand Nagus Zek. Zek signed the agreement to keep the universe from learning that I got Starfleet exactly what they needed. And Zek got exactly what he wanted. It's a mutually beneficial exchange." Lwaxana glared but she could also guess what her husband was thinking. "And it's not what you think, husband of mine."

Winston's jaw dropped. Just a little, and Lwaxana saw it. She had indeed surprised her husband, and chalked up one point on the mental scoreboard that she kept during the eternal husbands versus wives' battle game.

"You did it?" he gasped. He was absolutely, tickled pink by what his wife had accomplished.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" she too-coyly replied, wanting to hear non-stop praises from her husband.

Winston shook his head in disbelief, even as he found himself admiring his surprising wife even more than the day that he had married her.

"Oh, Loxie, you are amazing." He went on to describe in great detail what he found to be incredible about his wife. After a few minutes he added, "So Will sent you to make his report?"

"Not exactly. Deanna, remember. In labor." She tried not to be too sarcastic.

"The captain chose his wife over his ship?" a surprised Winston Holt Wiley half-muttered to himself. He did not think that Jean-Luc would ever have done that. Of course, Jean-Luc had never permitted himself to be put in such a situation in the first place – at least not on board the Enterprise.

"I told Will that I would take care of everything, darling," the coquettish Lwaxana just had to explain. "Besides, he's telepathically linked to his wife. He would be of little use to you if he kept crying out in agony because of a contraction hitting him while he was talking to you. Men just simply cannot handle childbirth pains the way that their wives do," Lwaxana tartly observed.

Winston had some idea of how Betazed couples handled childbirth together, so he wasn't that surprised that Will was linked to Deanna. Though he had never thought of the difficulties of birthing pains before – at least not when it happened to one of his male captains actually sharing them with his wife.

"I need an official report," he gruffly stated as the wheels began to churn in his head.

"I'll send you my report with all the little nothing details after my granddaughter is born," Lwaxana courteously replied.

Based on what Lwaxana had said and the way that she had said it, he did not doubt that once he got his wife's report, he'd be pulling what was left of his hair out over all those 'little nothing' unimportant details. But nothing could diminish his current good mood.

"Get Commander Data and Commander Crusher to send me their reports as soon as possible. Once I see what they have to say, I will then decide if I want the Enterprise to return to Sector One."

"Oh, you'll want the Enterprise to come back to Earth as soon as possible, once you see the reports," Lwaxana just had to add. "I'll tell Will to contact you as soon as he can." Lwaxana wisely decided that maybe now was not the time to mention Q's contributions to her negotiations with Grand Nagus Zek.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Q had the audacity to be lounging around on her favorite purple sofa, sipping what was left of the best bottle of wine that he had found in Lwaxana's personal wine vault as the grand lady entered her quarters.

Lwaxana refrained from screaming, though. Lwaxana thought about losing her temper, but she also recognized that Q wouldn't be this audacious for no reason. He clearly wanted something. And she did owe him…

Lwaxana turned when she heard the clink of a glass and took in the scene. A wine glass full of the Bordeaux she had treasured was held up in front of her face.

"It's been breathing long enough," Guinan explained as she handed Lwaxana the glass.

"Why am I not that surprised that you are here too," was Lwaxana's acidic observation. She took a sip of her wine, decided that Guinan was correct about the wine at least, walked over to her sofa, and commanded, "Get your boots off of my favorite blush velvet pillows!" When Q moved, he then snapped his fingers and a brief glow emanated from the entire piece of furniture.

Now Q was floating on a puffy pink cloud rather than reclining on her sofa. "Your love divan is now spic-and-span, as if I had never touched it," he cuttingly remarked. "Far be it from me to contaminate your precious plum abomination."

Guinan raised an eyebrow as she walked by Q over to the sofa, swirling a bit of the clouds with her robes. "What is it with you and puffy pink clouds, Q?" she just had to ask even as she noticed how Q's decorative choices blended so well with Lwaxana's tastes.

"Bitch!" he hissed at her.

"I think it is time for my Uncle Terkim to come for a visit," Guinan casually hissed back.

Q blenched. "Can't you take a joke?" he countered.

"Ooooohhh, Terkim. So big. So brawny. So masculine." A loud voice interrupted them. "I'd love to see your uncle again," Lwaxana cooed, as she took her rightful place on her hand-carved sofa. She patted the empty space next to her, and motioned for Guinan to come and join her.

Guinan eyed Q, mouthed the word 'no', and then sat herself on top of Lwaxana's Briglodian goose-down filled cushions.

For a moment, there was peace.

Then Lwaxana announced, "I can only stay for a few minutes. Billy Boy hasn't a clue as to how to help his wife in childbirth. I have to go to my daughter's rescue." She took a long drink of her ruby wine. Then she smiled ever so pleasantly, before asking in a deadly serious voice, "Now, would either of you care to explain to me what is really going on?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Q quickly asked. He thought that he was disguising his nervousness quite admirably.

Lwaxana only broadened her smile. "You obviously want something." She glanced over to a corner table, that just so happened to have a case of her favorite, impossible-to-find Château Mouton Rothschild, Red Bordeaux Superieur 2073 sitting under it. She had noticed the case when she had accepted the glass of wine from Guinan. "Normally you try to bribe me with Château Picard's better vintages. But today, you've brought out your 'big guns', Q." She took another sip of her wine and then waved a hand in the direction of the wood plank wine box. "So, why, Q dear?"

"This ought to be good," Guinan mumbled to herself, as she decided to go and open another bottle of wine. She stood, and idly noticed that Lwaxana was not objecting when Guinan reached for the sommelier's cork screw.

Putting on his 'sheepish expression' mask, Q explained, "I, uh, would like to ask a favor of you, my dearest Lwaxana."

"Don't lay it on too thick," Lwaxana advised the member of the Continuum.

"All right. Even though I am not technically in Sector One and therefore not breaking any of the parole restrictions that the Q placed on me, there are still some members of the Continuum who might object to the fact that I bedecked you in diamonds in order to help you bribe Grand Nagus Zek in order to get your hands on that Transwarp Drive."

"And why would these members of the Continuum object to that?" Lwaxana too-sweetly asked.

"I was told…"

"Ordered," Guinan interrupted."

He glared at the El Aurian before amending his turn of phrase. "All right. I was 'ordered' not to assist the Federation."

This time Lwaxana interrupted. "And why would the Continuum object to the Federation getting Transwarp Drive?"

"Oh, they don't object to that," Guinan quickly explained. "They just don't want this Q to do anything to help, hurt or interfere with the workings of the Federation. Our Q is not exactly that popular at the moment with his fellow Continuumanians." Guinan wasn't exactly sure that 'continuumanian' was a real word, but at this point of the discussion, she simply did not care. For she had gotten her point across, thereby saving Q from having this little talk with Lwaxana going off into an awkward direction.

"I see." And Lwaxana did see, far more than either friend sitting by her would have cared for her to know. "You want me to eliminate from any official record, any mention of the source of the gemstones?"

"That about sums it up," Q reluctantly admitted.

"And you will owe me one?" the lady from Betazed just had to add.

"Don't push it," Q warned.

Triumphantly smiling, Lwaxana knew that she had won this round. "Whatever you wish, Q, dear. I'll see to it that any mention of your participation in my negotiations with Grand Nagus Zek does not show up in any documentation, including anyone's personal logs. Though I am not sure that I can erase Commander Data's memories." She smiled as if she had a sudden thought. "I can ask that dear android to sequester his diamond details. That should work."

Knowing that he did 'owe' Lwaxana one in spite of what he had just done for her, Q forced himself to say, "Thank you, Lwaxana." Of course, it took a warning glare from Guinan to force those words to cross over his lips. With that, he quipped, "Don't drink all that wine in one place and at one time." Then Q wiggled his index finger and disappeared, leaving behind his low hanging pink clouds. The clouds dropped onto Lwaxana's hand-made rug and left a wet mark.

About to protest, Guinan was going to yell, "Q!"

But Lwaxana waved her hand to silence her. "My darling Deanna is screaming my name again." She stood, straightened out her robes, made sure that the décolletage of the dress was as low as it could be and still be considered decent, and then turned toward her companion. "Care to join me, Guinan?"

The lady thought for a second. "You know, I think that I shall. I wouldn't mind seeing how well Will Riker handles sharing childbirth with Deanna."

"Besides, who could resist the opportunity of comparing how Will Riker handles childbirth in contrast to Jean-Luc's actions," Lwaxana just had to add.

As the two ladies walked down the corridors toward Sickbay, Lwaxana just casually had to add, "And no, I have not forgotten that you and Q did not exactly answer the question."

"What question?" Guinan just as casually asked.

"What you and Q are up to."

TBC


	46. Baby Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will And Deanna's baby arrives. Kathryn has some health issues.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 46:

Baby Talk

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Rarely was Will Riker really glad to see his mother-in-law enter a room. But the minute that she set her turquoise K'tarian heel shod foot back into Sickbay, he found himself willing to be forever grateful to the lady. For nothing could alter the fact that he was a man. And that his wife really needed her mother at a time like this.

After Lwaxana cooed, fussed and fluttered over her daughter, Deanna took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a moment as the pain faded. At this point, Will Riker tugged Lwaxana aside.

"What, Will?" The lady was not inclined to 'play' with her son-in-law today. What was happening was too important for both of them for her to toy with annoying her son-in-law.

"Maybe we both should try to talk Deanna into having a fetal transport," Will hurriedly whispered. "Deanna is in so much pain… And she is already so exhausted…"

Lwaxana finally understood Will Riker's genuine concern about how much pain his wife was enduring and his everlasting concern for her. And she nodded her head, deciding then and there that she really would approve of Deanna's choice in husbands from this moment forward.

"Has she called you a hundred horrible names, yet? Vowed to never let you touch her again under pain of evisceration using primitive Klingon techniques?"

"She wanted to gut me, slowly." Will ruefully confessed. "Deanna has cursed me in quite a few languages, but mainly in Klingonese. I didn't know she could curse like that."

"Well if she hasn't gotten to her favorite Bolian epithets, then she still has a way to go before she has finally had enough."

"She speaks Bolian?" Will was surprised by this bit of information.

"Not that I am aware of, Will. But remember, she was a diplomatic brat. She picked up the favorite curse word phrases of quite a few dozen races by the time she was a teenager." Lwaxana quickly looked to see if Deanna had moved. She had not. "And heaven knows what being Jean-Luc Picard's counselor taught her. Now there is a man with a very long-winded inventive talent for cursing."

Since Will Riker had seldom heard Jean-Luc Picard ever use more than a single French curse word under his breath, he could only envision the extremely trying circumstances that would have forced the former captain of the Enterprise to curse in front of the Betazed Ambassador.

"Will," Deanna suddenly gasped.

Lwaxana rushed to her daughter's side and clasped her hand. "I am here, my Little One. Your Mother is here!" The lady's voice resonated about the hospital room.

Deanna kept her eyes closed even as she whispered, "Will."

Will nobly refrained from dramatically yelling, "I am here!" even as he rushed over to the other side of the medical obstetrics bed in order to hold Deanna's hand.

"The two people I love," Deanna sighed, as she reached up to touch Will's cheek. And then she closed her eyes as if she didn't have the strength to keep them open.

"Let her doze," Dr. Selar advised as she approached the little tableaux, scanning the situation yet one more time.

Will stood and carefully removed his hand from Deanna's hand. "I need to talk to the doctor," he quietly stated, knowing that Lwaxana would understand.

Motioning for the doctor to follow him, Will led Dr. Selar into her own office, nodding when the door slid shut behind them.

Dr. Selar sat behind her desk, now wondering what this was all about.

"Lwaxana and I agree that maybe Deanna should have a fetal transport," Will firmly announced. On Dr. Selar's response of a raised eyebrow, Will hastily added, "If you concur, that is, Dr. Selar."

"Oh, I do concur," Deanna's doctor quickly answered.

"You do?" Will was a bit surprised by her words. He rapidly spoke. "Is something wrong with Deanna? The baby?"

"Not yet. But, I think that a fetal transport would be a wise procedure," Dr. Selar began to explain. "Deanna is not exactly that young. And she has experienced a variety of trauma over the years that has affected her general overall health. A fetal transport, if done properly, will also place less stress on the baby as well. And that is always a good thing," the doctor just had to add.

Will finally noticed that Dr. Selar had been motioning for him to take a seat. He chose the chair closest to the doctor's desk.

"Captain, do you want to discuss the fetal transport with Deanna? Or would you prefer that I recommend it to Deanna instead?"

"Which of us would be better to tell her?" Will asked, for he knew how stubborn his wife could be.

"Well, it can't be her mother. Deanna would do the opposite of whatever her mother might suggest," Dr. Selar truthfully observed.

"True," Will agreed. "Deanna's relationship with her mother is… complicated."

"I will let you in on a little secret, Captain. Most daughter's relationships with their mothers are complicated. My own mother can drive me crazy within five minutes of my talking to her."

Since Will Riker had never seen his CMO in a 'crazy' mode, he took her words under advisement. "I lost my mother when I was very young. I never was given the chance to let her drive me crazy," Will sighed as he remembered how lonely he had felt over not having his mother around as a child. "But at times like this, I do not exactly envy Deanna."

"I do understand, Captain." Dr. Selar stood. "Now, let me run some more tests, and then I will discuss the matter with my patient." She walked over to her door. As it slid open she added, "Maybe you should take Lwaxana to get a cup of coffee, or whatever her preferred libation is that might mellow the lady out. I think that I will have a better chance of persuading Deanna to have the fetal transport if her mother is not around."

Will chuckled before he agreed. And Deanna, after a rather long bout from the pain of trying to give birth to a baby, agreed to Dr. Selar's recommendation. Clearly, giving birth to Ian years ago, had been the exception to the rule when it came to labor.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The doctor eyed her patient. And then she eyed the woman's ankles.

"Icheb," Kathryn cursed under her breath as she noticed what Katherine Pulaski was inspecting. She thought about pulling up a lap robe over her legs, but knew that would be futile since Katherine Pulaski had already seen her swollen ankles.

"That cadet cares about you," Katherine Pulaski announced, as she ran another quick scan over Kathryn Janeway's body. "What have you been eating?" she asked, when she was done with the scan.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Kathryn quickly answered back. "Whatever Ludvig has been serving me."

"Well, it looks like you got into something too salty for your system. I am going to have to order up a hypospray regimen to counteract the effects of the sodium."

"Oh."

There was a certain vocal inflection to that 'oh' from her patient that Katherine Pulaski recognized as a patient's 'uh oh', even as she sat down on the patio chair that was next to Kathryn's lounge chair. "And what exactly does 'oh' mean?" the lady pleasantly asked.

"Harry Kim's kimchee," Kathryn confessed. Next to her own EMH, Katherine Pulaski was one of the most diligently determined doctors that Kathryn had ever encountered.

"Huh?"

"One of my former Voyager officers brought Captain Chakotay a crock of his mother's home-made kimchee when Chakotay was in the hospital. I had the pot beamed over to Ludvig's pantry when Chakotay received it, for safe-keeping."

"And you've been sampling it?" Katherine Pulaski raised an eyebrow. For there had been nary a mention of kimchee on the dietary list of foods that Kathryn Janeway had been eating.

"Only a tablespoon full or two, at a time. That stuff is delicious. I never thought that I would actually crave pickled, fermented cabbage," Kathryn apologetically confessed.

"Well, I hate to say it, but you'd better stay away from the stuff. At least, for now." Katherine thought for a moment. "And while you are still breast feeding, too. It might cause problems when you are lactating."

Kathryn was disappointed. There weren't many foods that she had been craving during her pregnancy, but the salty, tangy kimchee had been one of them.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It had taken her more than a couple of hours to confirm her hypothesis, but now that she had the facts, her hands were actually trembling. She had to inform Jean-Luc Picard of what she had discovered. She knocked on Admiral Picard's in-house office door even as she pulled on her mantle of medical discipline, ready to brave this crisis in the early hours of the morning.

"Come in."

Katherine did. The lady could tell by the sudden tightening of Jean-Luc's lips that he was not exactly pleased to see her, but still, he courteously stood as she entered his small office.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Katherine?" Suddenly, he correctly interpreted the expression on the doctor's face. "It's Kathryn?"

"Yes. But I think that we need the security teams in on this discussion, too. And Mildred, as well."

He didn't look worried as his façade of calm control came into play, even as he accepted her statement, but Katherine Pulaski knew otherwise. A moment later, they left his office to proceed to the main floor conference room after everyone who needed to be contacted had been notified.

Dr. Pulaski had suggested that they let Kathryn Janeway sleep. At this moment, Jean-Luc saw no reason as to why he should wake up his wife.

A few minutes later Jean-Luc Picard, Dr. Pulaski, Mildred Krebs, Mike Ayala and Malcolm Reynolds were all seated around a conference table in the in-house security offices.

Dr. Pulaski stood.

"What is it?" Mildred asked as she correctly read Dr. Pulaski's body language and knew that something serious had occurred.

"Admiral Janeway ate some kimchee that had been deliberately altered," Dr. Pulaski explained.

Jean-Luc Picard abruptly stood shoving his chair back with a crash. "Are you saying that my wife was poisoned?" He was almost yelling.

"Not exactly, Jean-Luc." Katherine Pulaski waved him back down into his seat. "And she is fine now, thanks to a very alert and smart cadet named Icheb who noticed her swelling ankles and then was intelligent enough to mention it to me, posthaste. I was able to counteract the sodium overdosing without any harm to my patient."

"Poison-ing?" Mildred interjected, as she suspected that Katherine Pulaski had specifically chosen that word to cause concern.

"It's a complicated story, so let me explain," Katherine told the group, even as she slightly nodded her affirmation in Mildred's direction.

Katherine told her attentive listeners how Lieutenant Kim had given Captain Chakotay a crock of kimchee when he had been at Starfleet Medical, that his mother had made. After analyzing the contents of that crock, Dr. Pulaski then went to the Kim household last night, and had talked with Mrs. Kim and discovered that she still had several crocks from the same batch of the kimchee that had been given as a present. Dr. Pulaski then scanned those crocks and determined that the crock that Kathryn Janeway had been sampling, had been altered, since there was a significant difference in the sodium content to the crock that had been gifted. Early this morning she had determined that a highly concentrated Aldebaran saline solution had been introduced into the kimchee. Since it defied logic that someone would poison the kimchee for Captain Chakotay to eat since there was no way that one could predict that Admiral Janeway would end up eating it, the only action that made sense was that someone at Picard House had noticed that Admiral Janeway had liked the kimchee and had been eating it. So, it was at this point in Picard House, that whoever it was had infused the crock with the saline solution.

There was the dead silence of disbelief when Katherine had finished speaking.

"Someone in my household poisoned my wife?" His voice was the ice breaker, as Admiral Picard considered the horror of the ramifications of what Dr. Pulaski had uncovered.

"The kimchee wasn't tampered with in order to kill Admiral Janeway," Katherine Pulaski explained. "To harm her, yes. To kill her, no. Admiral Janeway would have had to have been eating a dozen crocks of the tainted stuff on a daily basis for weeks in order for it to endanger her life."

"Again, another 'little' incident," an angry Mildred Krebs exclaimed.

"Admirals, may I?" a very polite Mike Ayala interjected. "It's been understood for a while that the enemy has Picard House under surveillance in spite of our best efforts to protect and defend against such intrusion." Admiral Picard sent Lieutenant Ayala a questioning look. "It was all in the reports that were submitted to you, Admiral, this morning. We were scheduled to have a meeting about this later on this morning before you were to go to the Academy."

The admiral nodded as if agreeing with the security officer though inwardly he groaned because he had meant to get around to reading the security padds. But first, he had ordered some Earl Grey tea in his office. And then Katherine Pulaski had pulled him away. He had only done a preliminary review of the first padd and had not realized the extent of the observation of Picard House. He had expected that he would be better informed at the morning's briefing.

Ayala continued. "Anyway, it is highly likely that stealth or cloaked devices observed Admiral Janeway eating the kimchee out on the terrace or the patio. Hopefully, the contaminant was beamed into the crock without any inside assistance."

"How?" Picard quietly asked. All in the room sensed the deadly determination to the questioning behind the admiral's words.

"The most accessible, easiest moment to distract security would be to time the beam-in of the poison when someone was beaming out, occupying the attention of the transporter operator, and the security staff," a voice explained from the doorway. "I have heard that the Maquis used that trick every now and then." Wiley bowed his head in Lieutenant Ayala's direction who slightly nodded his agreement with the Fleet Admiral.

Everyone in the room stood as the admiral entered.

"Admiral Wiley," Jean-Luc formally greeted the man, moving as if to escort the head of Starfleet to a chair. Admiral Winston Holt Wiley waved Admiral Jean-Luc Picard to stay where he was.

Admiral Picard was somewhat surprised to see his boss. For a change, the man was dressed in an ordinary (for an admiral of his rank) duty uniform.

"Jean-Luc, I came over to tell you personally, that Deanna has given birth to my granddaughter. And that the mother and daughter are fine," Wiley announced. "Don't know what Will and Deanna have named the gel just yet, but I am sure that you will soon get the details from Will, and all the gorier details from Lwaxana." He sat down next to Jean-Luc Picard. "But now, reality must intrude." He sized up Lieutenant Reynolds before announcing, "Lieutenant, I am promoting you to Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately. You are now in complete charge of security at Picard House. Analyze every record this place has - all the vids, visitors, scans, transporter records, whatever, just to be sure that there is no traitor in our midst. You have my authorization to do what is needed and use whatever resources are necessary that are at your disposal." He looked over at Mildred. "Call your friends, Millie. We need them working here too."

Mildred nodded as she perfectly understood what her cousin was authorizing even if no one else in the room quite did. "There are a few of my friends who wouldn't mind coming out of retirement," she casually stated. She knew some elite forces that could be on duty before the sun was high in the sky.

Then Winston stared at Lieutenant Mike Ayala. "Lieutenant Ayala, you are now second in command of security here. I am promoting you to lieutenant, senior grade, as of now. Surround this house with all of your Voyagers, if necessary. Protect my admirals," he ordered.

Katherine Pulaski sat back down on her conference chair. "Well, you're blowing a lot of hot air this morning, Winnie," she coolly remarked.

"Have to, Kate." He eyed the doctor who was also his friend. "My little Katie really is okay? She wasn't hurt?"

"Not at all," Katherine readily answered. "And the baby is fine too."

Admiral Wiley turned toward Jean-Luc. "I held Kathryn Janeway in my arms as a baby, Jean-Luc. I've bounced her on my knee when she was a very stubborn three-year-old. I liked that about her. I have watched over your wife for a very long time, for her father Edward was a dear friend of mine." He paused, took a deep breath and then Holt slammed his hand down against the table. "What the hell is going on, here? This whole situation is crazy." He looked back at Katherine. "To poison Katie just enough to get her sick but not to kill her? What are we missing?"

"Whoever it is, has been deadly serious, Holt," Jean-Luc reminded the admiral. "Ensign Manion was murdered. And though I understand that the shuttle pilot's death will probably be ruled an accident, the possibility of murder still exists there too."

"You're the nexus, Jean-Luc," Admiral Wiley declared. "I am going to order the Enterprise to return to Earth. Once they get here, there will be a lot to discuss. Somehow, you have gotten entangled in a huge messy situation, Jean-Luc, that goes far beyond a mad Ferengi named DaiMon Bok bent on seeking apocalyptic revenge."

"I see." Jean-Luc Picard did not.

"Typical Picard maneuver," Wiley muttered under his breath.

"What?" Picard wasn't sure quite sure what he had heard; what the admiral was really referencing.

"Even when you're sitting behind a desk, Jean-Luc, somehow the action always seems to finds you," Wiley grudgingly explained.

Mildred stood. "Shall I let the Academy know that we are not coming in today, Admiral Picard?"

Jean-Luc reluctantly nodded. He hated having to take time away from the Academy, especially for matters that were this urgent. He just wanted some peace and calm to come back into his life, and it now seemed as if that was an impossible dream.

"I think I'll attend your little security meeting, Commander Reynolds," Admiral Wiley remarked. "When is it scheduled?"

"An hour from now," the man gulped for he was not exactly used to senior Starfleet admirals wishing to attend his staff meetings.

"In that case, let's go talk Ludvig into making us some of his divine Belgian waffles," Winnie suggested to one and all, as he stood, heading for the outside pathways that would lead to the kitchen patio as well as to the lower level cafeteria where usually most of the residents and workers at Picard House had their meals.

Katherine Pulaski stood and jerked her head toward an interior door. "Let's go wake up Kathryn, Jean-Luc. It is time that we tell her. Plus, I wish to run another scan on her, anyway."

"There is more of a problem?" Jean-Luc was descending into worrying about everything.

"No, Jean-Luc. I am just being overly-precautious again."

"I thank you for your precautious nature, Katherine. I cannot think of too many other doctors who would have thought to double check a pot of cabbage because my pregnant wife has swollen ankles." For Jean-Luc was genuinely grateful for what Dr. Pulaski had done.

Dr. Pulaski inwardly grinned. It was not often that the great Jean-Luc Picard had to thank her. In spite of the circumstances, it was promising to be a good day.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

In spite of the serious nature of their discussions, Winston Holt Wiley couldn't stop chuckling after the security meeting was finished.

"Both of my godchildren are rated on phasers?" he just had to ask of Mike Ayala.

Jean-Luc Picard tried to focus on the discussion rather than to start screaming about the knowledge that his children had had weapons training and that no one had bothered to inform him. Or ask permission to train Anna and Billy Bob.

Lieutenant Ayala gulped for he had learned enough about this commanding officer to sense that he was perturbed. "Yes, Sir."

"Who rated them?" for only qualified instructors could do so.

"Commander Worf," Lieutenant Ayala answered with rapidity.

A grimace was the only outward sign that Admiral Picard was displeased. But now, at least, he understood why his children had been exposed to such instruction. Though personally, he was going to expose his Klingon friend to the wrath of a father, as soon as he could get a private moment with Commander Worf.

And then, Lieutenant Ayala just had to add, "Commander Worf said that Anna had a ninety-four percent accuracy rating and that Billy Bob was at ninety-five percent."

Though part of him was proud that his children had such high accuracy ratings, Admiral Picard was not pleased that they did so. Six-year-olds should not be firing weapons.

"Can't wait until my godchildren become cadets," Admiral Wiley just had to remark. "They will take the Academy by storm."

And that was exactly one of the things that Admiral Jean-Luc Picard would worry about in the future.

TBC


	47. Oh, Baby!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Deanna's daughter is introduced. Kathryn has her own issues. Will Riker lets Lwaxana steal some of the spotlight after she deals with Q's little issues.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 47:

Oh, Baby!

=/\= =/\= =/\=

There was a silly grin on Captain William T. Riker's face. Because he was watching his beautiful wife holding their darling daughter and it was such a wonderful sight, indeed. His daughter was nursing for the first time, getting the colostrum that she needed.

Dr. Selar watched the mother and daughter with silent approval. All had gone well during the fetal transport.

Will Riker had thought that this day would never come, especially during the latter months of Deanna's pregnancy. And now, he only hoped that this momentous day of his daughter's birth, would never end. Will Riker could not remember a moment of his life before now, when he had felt so happy. So very happy.

"By the way, I talked with Winnie and told him almost everything," Lwaxana idly remarked as she was personally flitting about, pointing and directing all the holopictures that Mr. Homm was taking of the new family.

"What?" Lwaxana's words had not really registered as he just simply sat on the side of the bed, gazing with a besotted and somewhat stunned expression on his face, at his wife and daughter. When their daughter fell asleep, Deanna carefully moved her a bit, to cover up her breast.

"And don't tell anyone about the favor Q did for us by creating all those gemstones. It seems that Q will get into trouble if anyone finds out. I'll tell the others about Q's problem," Lwaxana added as she double-checked video angles.

It wasn't until Lwaxana had repeatedly said the letter "Q" a couple of times, that the captain of the Enterprise actually turned his attention toward what his mother-in-law was saying. Q's name would always capture Will Riker's notice. "What are you talking about, Lwaxana?"

"Q doesn't want any of us to tell anybody, or record in any report or on a computer, that he helped us with the Ferengi. Apparently, Q could get into a lot of trouble if anybody in the Continuum finds out what he did. So, when I talked to Holt, I did not mention anything to Winnie about the gemstones, and all of that stuff."

Will froze as Lwaxana's words had an impact. "You talked to Admiral Wiley?" His voice was the tiniest bit shaky.

"Why yes, when I reported in and finally got around to talking to my husband. I wanted my husband to know that we got the transwarp drive."

"What…" He was somewhat dumbfounded by his mother-in-law's words.

"Your daughter was being born. Deanna needed you. So, I took care of things." Lwaxana stood, shrugged her shoulders and then gestured toward the Sickbay door. "After you tell me what you are going to name my granddaughter so that I can approve or disapprove, then you have my permission to go and speak to my husband for yourself."

"Will." Deanna raised her hand toward her husband as she sensed a momentary blast of annoyance from him. She could also feel that he was becoming befuddled again, so she needed to ground him in his new reality. So, she longed for him. It worked. He came over, clasped her hand and then kissed her forehead as well as nuzzled his daughter's head. Deanna had distracted him again.

Deanna straightened up a little bit. "Will and I have already decided on a name," she announced in a voice that would brook no nonsense from her mother. For she knew her mother way too well. She smiled up at her husband. "Shall we tell her?" she teased.

"Don't make me wait," Lwaxana warned.

Will chuckled for he was finally getting over the fact that Lwaxana Troi-Wiley had made a report to the head of Starfleet command for him. Inwardly, he shuddered at what she could have said. He presumed that he would have to do some damage control. But at the moment, he was not angry with Lwaxana, for after all, she was the mother of his wife.

Deanna lifted her daughter's tiny perfect pink hand and waggled it at her mother. Then the new mother smiled. "Mother, meet Kestra Beverly Troi-Riker. Your granddaughter."

Lwaxana burst into tears, emotionally overcome. Even Mr. Homm, standing in the background, had tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You named her after your sister!" Lwaxana sobbed.

"And a dear friend who was as beloved to us as a dear sister," Will added, as he just couldn't help himself. He kissed his wife and daughter again, before he walked over to surprise his mother-in-law by kissing her fondly on the cheek.

A moment later, Will was holding the baby, and Deanna was holding her mother as she collapsed onto her daughter's shoulder. Lwaxana rarely did anything half-way. For when she cried, she really wailed and moaned.

Will Riker could only hope that his daughter would take after her mother rather than her grandmother when it came to emotional scenes. It would take Will Riker a few years before he would realize that his daughter would choose her own path.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"How could you," she angrily cried. "How dare you keep this from me!" Her voice rose as her anger began to bubble forth. She could not believe that they had done this to her.

"Mother, it's not what you think!" Kathryn protested as she sat down on a dining chair at the table in their breakfast room.

"I had to learn from Ludvig that you were poisoned!" Gretchen argued. "Haven't I been through enough? Thinking you were dead, then alive but lost to me in the Delta Quadrant! And now, when I at last hoped that you were safe and finally had a home, you were poisoned within these very walls…"

"Gretchen, I did not know about the incident until Dr. Pulaski told me early this morning. It was Dr. Pulaski's decision not to awaken Kathryn because we both know how much her insomnia has been plaguing her during her pregnancy," Jean-Luc hastily explained.

"Mother, it was only after the security staff's meeting with Dr. Pulaski was over, that Jean-Luc and Katherine came to tell me what had happened. I just learned about the tampering with the kimchee barely thirty minutes ago. Then I was brought up to speed by Mike Ayala and Malcom Reynolds as well." She stood and went behind her mother's chair to place her arms about her mother's shoulders and hug her tightly. Her silk woven aquamarine tunic stretched as Kathryn not-exactly-gracefully performed this maneuver. "I didn't have time to warn you," she whispered against her mother's cheek. "I am sorry that you had to find out about it from someone else." She kissed her mother's cheek. "But I am unharmed. The baby is fine."

"You were lucky!" Gretchen spat back, staring at her son-in-law as if she were accusing him of something.

Jean-Luc stood by his chair, trying not to let his sudden weariness become apparent. "And just what would you suggest that I do, Gretchen?" He automatically adjusted the position of Kathryn's usual chair at the table so that she could sit down again, as he assisted his wife to her seat. And then he sat down as well, next to her.

He sent a quick, assessing gaze over his bride, and then tapped his comm badge. "Mr. Ludvig, could you please send hot tea and a light repast to the breakfast room?"

"I'm not hungry," Kathryn protested.

"Well, you don't have to actually eat anything," Gretchen countered, still sounding like she was annoyed. "You could just nibble away on something." Then Gretchen returned to glaring at her son-in-law.

Jean-Luc countered Gretchen's arguments before she even made them. "I cannot send Kathryn to LaBarre. It is too unprotected. The same problem applies to your home in Indiana as well, Gretchen. Regardless of how many guards and security domes one might install, Kathryn still would not be as protected there as she is secured here."

"Well, a similar argument could be made about Starfleet Medical too when Kathryn goes there for her labor!" Gretchen reasoned.

"Actually, I have a suggestion about that," announced a voice from the doorway. Katherine Pulaski entered the room, pushing a tea cart in front of her. She picked up a Brown Betty fat, large pottery teapot and placed it directly in front of Jean-Luc. "Earl Grey," she announced. Then the lady picked up a matching but smaller second teapot, adding, "Vulcan spice blend tea, number two," as she placed that full teapot in front of Kathryn. Then Katherine picked up a tall, cylindrical coffeepot. "Kona Blue, I believe." She walked over and presented the coffee pot to Gretchen, who readily accepted it, then reached for her place setting's cup and saucer. Katherine smiled over at Jean-Luc before commenting, "I feel in the mood for a good strong tea, today, so we're sharing, Jean-Luc."

He only responded with an insignificant glare in Dr. Pulaski's direction. Knowing that he was not going to win this mini-battle with Katherine, Jean-Luc automatically filled two tea cups, then moved one cup and saucer in the direction of where Dr. Pulaski usually sat.

"And your suggestion, Doctor Pulaski?" he politely asked, even as he kept assessing his mother-in-law's attitude. His wife's mood he already recognized. Kathryn was scared but she was bravely hiding it. She was also sorely in need of a hug which he would provide as soon as they were alone.

"Have the baby on board a ship," Katherine Pulaski simply said. "If my calculations are correct, the Enterprise should make it back to Earth in about three weeks if Winnie authorizes Riker's warp speed for something higher than warp five."

"But I'm not due for another nine to ten weeks!" Kathryn protested. She didn't exactly dislike the idea of giving birth on board the Enterprise. Whoever was trying to harm her would have to get through the ship's defenses in order to get to her. And Kathryn did not doubt that Admiral Wiley would authorize every precaution necessary to keep her safe even if it took a fleet of ships to protect and defend her.

"Well, the Enterprise isn't the only ship out there," Katherine remarked. "My own flag ship, the Galen is due to arrive at Utopia Planetia in less than four weeks. We could use her obstetrics ward, while the ship is being guarded by every galaxy class ship in Sector One."

However, Kathryn Janeway did not really like the idea of all of these ships being committed to taking care of her, simply because she was going to have a baby. "What if I have the baby here," she suggested.

"If necessary, Picard House will serve. But I would prefer for your labor to be in a fully staffed and functional obstetrics ward," Katherine answered back, between sips of tea, and noshing on one of Ludvig's homemade crullers.

It was Jean-Luc who detected something else behind Katherine's words. "What is worrying you about my wife's delivery, Dr. Pulaski?"

Katherine inwardly grimaced. She had hoped that Jean-Luc wouldn't notice, but now that he had, between Jean-Luc and Kathryn, they were bound to hound her until she told them.

She put down her tea cup. Then she stared at the three of them for a moment, before explaining her concern.

"Kathryn, Jean-Luc, what very unique physical condition do you both share?"

"Doctor, I am not in the mood for playing guessing games," Jean-Luc quickly retorted.

But it was Kathryn who accurately guessed the answer to the question. "The Borg." She trembled as she began to understand the potential problems. "The Borg nanites."

"Right on," Katherine Pulaski confirmed.

"Why have you never mentioned this before?" Jean-Luc bristled.

"Because you two seemed so normal, that it wasn't considered to be a potential difficulty at all, until one of my obstetrics interns wrote a paper about the possible effects of Borg nanites in human male sperm and impregnation."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes, trying to exert his legendary control over himself. He barely succeeded. "This was determined from some of my samples?" he softly asked.

"Jean-Luc, those pesky little nanites just won't go away," Katherine countered.

"But Anna and Billy Bob are perfectly normal," Gretchen argued.

"True," Katherine agreed. "But their mother had never been assimilated by the Borg, too."

"And unfortunately, I have been," Kathryn whispered.

"Right now, the pregnancy is progressing normally. There is nothing abnormal in any of the fetal scans. There is nothing to indicate that something will become abnormal during the rest of your pregnancy, Kathryn," Dr. Pulaski calmly explained.

"Then what is worrying you?" Gretchen quickly asked.

"Borg nanites are protective. They repair damage when it occurs," Katherine calmly mentioned.

Kathryn nodded, beginning to understand. "You're afraid that the nanites in my blood stream might decide that my going into labor is an attack on my body."

"Something like that," Katherine agreed. "Which is why I am going to be closely monitoring you until you do give birth. And also, which is why I am going to suggest a fetal transport birth rather than you giving birth naturally, Kathryn. I think that it would be best if you had it before you go into full blown labor. We could even schedule the delivery before you actually due to begin labor – perhaps two weeks before your due date."

"And it would be safe for my baby?" Kathryn bravely questioned.

"Yes. You fetus is viable even now, so if you gave birth today, you would have your daughter even though she might be premature and have to spend a few weeks in an incubator," Katherine calmly answered.

Jean-Luc automatically filled Katherine's teacup, even as his own cup of tea sat untouched in front of him. For he was thinking. "If the nanites are this protective, why didn't they address the problem of the sodium overdose?"

Katherine Pulaski stared at her former captain. She hadn't wanted to share this next bit of information unless it was absolutely necessary. And now, it was.

"Kathryn," Dr. Pulaski was the center of everyone's attention. "Actually, the nanites did go into protective mode when your sodium intake increased. Those nanites prevented the damage of your poisoning from turning into something more serious. I could have still taken care of the problem, once it was discovered, but there probably would have been some complications. Your Borg nanites helped prevent it."

"In short, my being assimilated, helped protect my baby," Kathryn bitterly remarked.

"That about sums it up," Katherine agreed. "Once Doc Joseph gets back from Pluto, we will chart a more precise course for you, Kathryn. I have been keeping your EMH updated on you as well as Captain Chakotay and his son."

Finally, Gretchen poured herself a cup of coffee. "Lordy, why can't anything around here be simple and straightforward," she observed.

Jean-Luc proffered a silent 'amen' to that statement.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

For the moment, Will Riker was a man quite pleased with himself and with his life. His conversation with the Fleet Admiral of Starfleet, had gone surprisingly well. Of course, the fact that Winnie was looking forward to meeting his granddaughter might have had something to do with that.

The Enterprise was ordered to return to Earth as fast as possible. Dr. Leah Brahms was already preparing Utopia Planetia and Mars Station for the arrival of the Transwarp Drive. She'd already been sent the specs and was in constant communication with Geordi, Wes and Data.

After his talk with Admiral Wiley, Captain Riker had held a brief staff meeting where he ordered all of his officers not to mention in either official reports, personal logs, or private notes, any mention of Q's involvement with providing the gemstones to bribe Grand Nagus Zek. They also were ordered not to discuss the matter with anyone else who did not know about the gemstones. The last thing anyone needed was having their Q get mad at them. Or, causing problems with the Continuum.

Voyager's logs about the Continuum civil war had quickly made the rounds of all the senior officers in Starfleet when they had been released. The Continuum was not something that anyone in Starfleet wished to disturb.

Will Riker was on his way to join his wife and daughter in their sickbay room. He'd done everything that needed to be done as captain. Mr. Data and Mr. Worf had everything well in hand. So now, Will Riker was looking forward to just being with the woman and the daughter that he loved as they started their new life together as a family.

He had not forgotten all of the pressing matters that were occurring in his universe from the search for Beverly and all of the other people who had disappeared, to worries about the viability of the transwarp drive, to the fact that it didn't seem to matter how many times he changed the codes for his wine vault, Mr. Homm seemed to be able to crack them.

Even as he approached Sickbay, he heard a chuckle from behind his back. He turned, and then smiled as he watched Guinan approach wearing shimmering golden robes.

"What?"

"Congratulations, Will. I am looking forward to meeting your daughter in a few minutes," she remarked as she joined her captain.

"Thank you, Guinan." He simply looked at her. "Why were you chuckling? What did I do?"

"It's nothing that you did, Will. It is what Lwaxana is about to do," the barkeep answered.

"You're going to tell me, aren't you?" he wearily sighed, for whenever his adrenaline rush started to fade away, his fatigue rose up.

"Lwaxana brought on board over one hundred cases of champagne, curtesy of Robert and Marie Picard to toast your daughter, Kestra."

Will didn't even ask how Guinan could possibly know his daughter's name, for he had yet to make a formal, public announcement. Still, Guinan having such information was the kind of thing that Guinan always seemed to know. And Will Riker was finally beginning to comprehend why his former captain had always given Guinan such special leeway in the past.

He nodded his permission. "You'll supervise the distribution of the champagne in Ten Forward?"

"I've already made the arrangements once Lwaxana makes the grand announcement to the crew," Guinan soothingly replied.

"But it's my daughter! I should be the one who tells…"

Guinan shook her head, cutting him off. "Let Lwaxana have the glory. She enjoys it so well. Besides, she will owe you a favor and that is never a bad thing to have."

Will Riker recognized the wisdom of that statement.

She pointed a finger in the direction of Sickbay. "Now, let us go say hello to Deanna and Kestra." She patted Will's shoulder. "Enjoy this time, Will Riker. Revel in it. For soon enough things will get back to normal, and it is times like this that keep us going."

Wearing broad smiles, they stepped into Sickbay, arm-in-arm,

TBC


	48. Q, Tea, Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q talks to Guinan. Kathryn talks to Chakotay. Jean-Luc talks to his dinner guests.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 48:

Q, Tea, Pie

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Lwaxana is like a dog with a bone. Once she sinks her pointy little teeth into something, she won't give it up," Guinan warned Q, as she wandered about, behind the bar in Ten Forward, checking to see what needed to be done before she opened the doors to the lounge for her customers.

Q floated above the bar, occasionally levitating a liquor bottle up to a glass he was holding, in order to pour a shot or three into it.

Guinan eyed him. This member of the Continuum had the unnerving ability to ascertain which bottle of liquor was real alcohol as well as which bottles were the most valuable of her very special collection that she usually served only former starship captains, and an occasional dignitary, now and then.

"I must say, Madam Guinan, you've got a few liqueurs here that I have never tasted, which is saying something." Q slurped a bit.

"Do you like them?" Guinan casually asked as she reached up to rescue a bottle that was still floating even after Q had poured himself a hefty shot from it.

"I didn't say that," Q argued.

"Doesn't matter whether you like them or not, Q. Put the bottles back where they belong when you are done with them."

"Always telling me what to do," Q grumbled.

"Well, somebody should," she countered, even as she straightened out her cerise rhomboid shaped hat which she'd almost knocked off when she'd reached for the bottle.

"Lwaxana is a changeling," Q added. "She's always flitting about. It is part of her enduring charm. She will quickly move on to the next thing that catches her fancy." His next liqueur choice was something in a mauve blushing syrup. Guinan let him have it for she'd had that bottle for quite a while, and no one ever ordered a shot from it any more. She'd forgotten the name of the misbegotten Sirian hell-hole from which she had liberated it.

Guinan shook her head in disbelief over Q's words. "Did you ever really bother to get to know Lwaxana before you slept with her?" she asked with just a hint of acidity.

"What's that supposed to mean? Besides, it was years ago. I tend to forget unimportant little details."

Harumph. "What it means, Q, is that we are going to have to satisfy her curiosity or else we could end up facing a disaster even greater than what would occur if the Continuum ever found out what you've been up to."

"Don't you mean, we?" Q countered.

"I am not a member of the Continuum, Q. You are."

"And you'd leave me to face the consequences alone, if we are caught?" he huffed, as the puce cloud upon which he was floating suddenly dissipated, leaving him to gracefully descend down to the deck of Ten Forward, in a snit.

"If we're discovered by the Continuum, Q, I will disappear so fast that by the time the problem explodes, no one will even remember that I was there," Guinan informed her friend. "But I don't want that to happen. Lwaxana could cause trouble so we need to decide how to handle her."

"I could give her selective amnesia," Q mused, as he reached behind the bar for some rare aged Aldebaran whiskey.

"That won't work. I'm sure that Lwaxana confides in a great many people. And surely at least one or two of those people will notice that she's been changed. It could start getting people to ask questions that we don't want anyone to ask," she warned.

"Then what do you suggest?" Q asked with just a touch of snarkiness.

"We start telling the truth?"

"Whose version?" Q not-so-innocently inquired.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft, full of concern even as she strove to disguise just how concerned she still was over him.

"Maybe you should ask Fry-Baby. She's the one who usually tells me how I am feeling as she is torturing me."

This was a sign that Chakotay was trying to banter with her. Kathryn interpreted it as a good sign. Kathryn tried to unobtrusively assess Chakotay's condition, but the foolish man was putting up a brave facade, as usual. For Chakotay had just finished his morning physical therapy sessions, and Kathryn knew that he had to be hurting. Chakotay only accepted pain medication when he was really in pain, and she had heard him asking Amelyss for his medication as she had been entering the guest house a few minutes ago. The man was a stubborn cuss.

"Done with your inspection?" he too-casually asked, as he responded to her intense visual examination.

"Just making sure that everything is where it is supposed to be," she rejoined with a smile.

"Do you approve?"

"I always have," she softly answered.

Chakotay blinked. Was Kathryn trying to flirt with him? He scowled. He was too far beyond the pale to be able to permit himself to flirt with Kathryn any more. He didn't deserve her kindness or generosity. And he didn't even want to think about what might be motivating her husband.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked with concern when she realized that he wasn't responding to her teasing.

"Only if you will have some with me," he answered, though he seemed distracted by something, at the moment.

Kathryn raised her eyes as she watched Chakotay's physical therapist walk through the patio doors, and move toward them for they were under the awning by the pool. The lady was wearing some sort of vivid yellow and orange patterned kimono today. Kathryn liked Phrynne's taste in clothes. They reminded her of Phoebe's style.

Kathryn was seated on a bright blue patio chair wearing a loose, dark blue sleeveless dress with a white sweater draped over the back of the chair. Chakotay had used his hover chair to come outside since his morning's work-out had clearly tired him to the point where he would actually admit it. He simply wasn't up to trying to walk at the moment.

"Hello, Phrynne. I was just about to order some afternoon tea and cake. Would you care to join us?" Kathryn politely asked, since Chakotay seemed not to be paying attention to the niceties at the moment.

"Not today. I'll leave you to your tete-a-tete," she cheerfully answered. "I just thought that I'd be the first to tell you the good news, Chakotay."

"What news?" Kathryn matched Phrynne's cheerfulness, inflection for inflection for Chakotay seemed not to be ignoring that Phrynne was speaking.

"Kolopak is going to be released from the NICU tomorrow. And if everything goes well over the next three days at the pediatric ward, Kol can come to Picard House on Monday." Phrynne patted Chakotay's shoulder, momentarily admiring the man in his tan tee shirt. Since she'd been working on developing his upper body muscles, her patient was most definitely stretching out his tee shirt quite well.

It took a moment before Phrynne's words were comprehended by Chakotay.

"Oh Chakotay, that is wonderful!" It almost sounded like Kathryn squealed for a micro-second.; she was so happy for him. "Your son is coming home…" She strongly patted his shoulder several times.

And then Kathryn noticed that the expression of joy that she was expecting on Chakotay's face did not materialize. If anything, he grimaced even more darkly. Kathryn turned toward Phrynne, suddenly all stiffly formal, as if she were still a captain protecting one of her officers. "Thank you for the information about the baby, Phrynne. I will check with Dr. Joseph and make sure that everything will be ready for Kolopak's arrival."

Phrynne didn't have to be a former member of Captain Janeway's crew to know that she was being 'dismissed'. Clearly, something was going on with her patient emotionally, and Admiral Janeway was going to deal with it. She decided to let the admiral take a pass at Chakotay before she called in the counselors as she walked away from the couple. For depression was not an uncommon problem with patients who were in a long-term rehab program.

"Alone, at last," Kathryn teased as she tried to reach Chakotay.

"Hardly." He sounded grumpy. Then Chakotay looked toward the main house. "I bet that there are a couple of dozen people spying on us right now."

"That sounds about right."

"What?" Chakotay was puzzled by her reaction.

"Our security detail, Chakotay. A couple of dozen security personnel should be on duty right now."

As if the thought of this upset him, Chakotay buried his head in his hands. "Oh, Kathryn. I am so sorry…"

"For what?" She reached over and hugged him. "You have done nothing that you need to apologize for." She held him tightly. "You're alive. And soon you will be well. That's what matters – what counts."

"But, you… I heard about your poisoning. I should have…"

"Hush!" she commanded. "There wasn't anything that you could have done."

"But it was my kimchee."

"And if I hadn't indulged in one of my traditions of 'borrowing' your food, I never would have gotten sick in the first place. My habit of taking your stuff is what lead to all this."

Chakotay lifted up his head and simply studied Kathryn. He tried to find some emotional strength from somewhere. "Especially since you didn't even ask my permission," he faintly replied, trying to follow her lead.

Her heart lightened a bit. He was attempting 'raillery' again. So, she brightened up and replied, "When did I ever need to ask your permission for helping myself to your food?"

"Your stealing my food was never the problem, Kathryn. It was your pilfering of what amounted to oceans of coffee from my rations, that forced me to eat Neelix culinary efforts for years," he just had to add.

She laughed. "Well then, let's just say that the real reason as to why you are staying here is because it is my way of paying you back for all of my cups of coffee and your bouts of indigestion."

For a moment he paused, and then he added, "But you will still owe me, Kathryn Janeway. For there is nothing that you can give me or do that can compensate me for having to eat Neelix's leola root pasta surprise."

"If you ate it more than once, then you brought that calamitous decision down on your own stomach," she warned.

"Ahem." A throat cleared behind them.

Kathryn lifted her head and eyed the tall, dark hair young woman who was wearing a more traditional pale blue medical tunic. "Oh, hello, Amelyss."

"My patient is due for another hydro-therapy session. Phrynne is getting everything ready."

"But he hasn't had his cake, yet!" Kathryn protested as she took a quick look at the teacart that was waiting by the sliding doors.

"Come back after Chakotay is done, and force him to eat it," Amelyss cheerfully answered. "This session should last about an hour," she helpfully added.

Kathryn stood, picked up her sweater, and then bent over to kiss Chakotay's cheek. "I will see you then, Chakotay. The tea is in stasis so I will pour it for you then."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Chakotay doesn't think that he is worthy enough to be here," Kathryn complained, as she paced around the sofa in the library. "I know the way that man thinks! And I don't know what to do to get through to him!"

Gretchen simply sat on the earth tones colored Turkey work upholstered oak armchair that she had declared as 'hers' near the fireplace. "He's a sensitive soul, that one. And like most men with a conscience and a sense of pride, Chakotay does not like to be beholden to a man that he probably perceives as his 'rival'."

"Nonsense, Mother. Jean-Luc had done nothing to make Chakotay his enemy."

"I can think of a few things," Gretchen remarked as she studied her daughter's slightly flushed face.

"What?" Kathryn put her hands on her hips and stared down at her mother.

Gretchen eyed her daughter's tummy. "Well, for one thing, Jean-Luc got you pregnant. I am sure that Chakotay might have had a fantasy about doing that himself over the years."

"Chakotay is not like that," Kathryn protested.

"He is a man, isn't he? And he's in love with you, isn't he?" When Kathryn slightly nodded, Gretchen added, "Then he is like that." She placed the book that she had been reading on a side table, stood and walked over to hug her daughter. "I have a feeling that you have yet to discuss your three-way marriage plans with Chakotay."

"I haven't been able to say anything. I didn't want Chakotay to feel obligated to stay and become a target, too."

"Foolish girl. As long as that man is in love with you, he will stay wherever you are."

Gretchen kissed her daughter's cheek, and then walked to the sliding pocket door in the library. "I have got to go speak to Ludvig. I forgot to ask him something about tonight's dinner." And with that, Gretchen was gone.

And Kathryn decided that she just might have enough time to take a quick nap before she went to Chakotay again, as she reclined on the sofa, and pulled up her favorite crazy quilt lap over her legs.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Perigord tarte au noix but with pecans instead of walnuts," Gretchen politely requested of Ludvig. "Any chance we could have it for dessert, tonight?"

Ludvig sat down on one of the tall stools that were in his kitchen. "This is an odd request, Gretchen."

"How so?"

Ludvig grinned. "Admiral Picard asked me to make that same dessert, yesterday, for tonight's welcoming dinner for Chakotay having accomplished being healthy enough to come for dinner for the first time. The admiral suggested switching the nuts, too. Great minds must think alike."

Gretchen could only laugh.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc decided that under the circumstances, dinner was a moderate success. Chakotay seemed to have enjoyed what had been on the menu. And even though he was trying to maintain a civilized discourse, the man was clearly tiring. Jean-Luc did not doubt that Kathryn would wish to escort him back to the guest house fairly soon.

As the last of the dinner plates were cleared away from the family dining table, Kathryn stood and excused herself. Gretchen followed, pushing the cart with the antique English Derby china that had been part of the dinner service that Jean-Luc had inherited from his Aunt Adele. Gretchen had seemed very appreciative of the dinner service, the first time Ludvig had used it to set the table. So Ludvig continued to use it for their family dinners.

"I'll join you for dessert in a little while," Kathryn informed her husband from the doorway. "I need to go to upstairs for a few minutes, and then I will check in on Anna and Billy Bob just to make sure that they are actually asleep and not plotting to take over the world, or something like that."

"Maybe I'll join you," Gretchen added, as she trailed after her daughter. "for my money is on them trying to take over the world... Again."

Once they were alone, the two men warily eyed each other.

"This is a nice dining room," Chakotay announced, as he looked about the room, noting the antique Hepplewhite furniture, and the nuanced blending of ivory, gentian blue, ivy green and pale lemon yellow.

"My late wife, Beverly, decorated this room when we moved in here. She loved this family dining room, so I never had the heart to change it after she died."

"I can tell. Beverly helped decorate the library too, didn't she? I was in there briefly during one of your barbeques, and I had noticed all the hand-crafted art work and wood work detailing. Beverly always loved stuff like that."

Jean-Luc's eyes widened in surprise. "You knew Beverly Crusher?"

"A long time ago, Jean-Luc. But back then she was Beverly Howard. I was a tactics instructor at the Academy, and Beverly was an intern at Starfleet Medical. Our paths crossed for a few weeks before I shipped out on a deep space mission. A couple of years later, when I got back, I found out that she had married Jack Crusher." Chakotay picked up his tea, and was not that surprised as he tasted it, to discover that it was one of his favorite spice blends.

"Jack Crusher was one of my senior officers and friend, on board the Stargazer. When he married Beverly, she became a dear friend of mine until years later after Jack Crusher died. First, she became my CMO on board the Enterprise and then, eventually, I convinced her to become my wife," Jean-Luc coolly remarked, as he gave no sign that he was astonished that Beverly had been known to Chakotay. A stray memory of Beverly once telling him about an old lover with whom she had enjoyed a brief affair crossed his mind. Considering the fondness in his voice when Chakotay had talked about Beverly, Jean-Luc began to suspect that this man had been Beverly's lover.

Chakotay smiled. "Your kids have a lot of Beverly in them. They remind me of her."

"They do, indeed. I trust that they have not been bothering you," Jean-Luc quickly asked. "I know that Billy Bob will ask a thousand questions if you let him."

"I've already encountered both of them. Considering what Phrynne is making me do, their presence is a most welcome interruption. They are wonderful children, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc took a sip of the Earl Grey that he had poured for himself, after serving his guest. "So, it seems that we have the same taste in women," he ironically noted.

Chakotay froze for a second, before he nervously chuckled. "It seems that we do." He looked over at Jean-Luc, and then announced, "I understand that Kol will be coming here on Monday. I want to tell you how much I do appreciate everything that you are doing for me and my son…"

Jean-Luc interrupted him. "But you want to get the hell out of here as soon as you can?"

Chakotay nodded. "Once I am well enough to take care of Kol on my own, I need to find my own place."

"I have several suggestions about that, Chakotay." Jean-Luc took another drink from his bone china tea cup.

"Oh?" Chakotay was trying not to reveal any of his frustration over this situation to this man.

"You could rent the guest house, once you are medically on the mend," Jean-Luc casually suggested.

"Rent it?"

"You know Kathryn," Jean-Luc observed. "She is not going to stop wanting to visit you."

"Maybe it would be better for her if she did," Chakotay darkly remarked.

"Nonsense," Jean-Luc most politely but firmly replied. "I knew that Kathryn loved you when I married her. I will not stand in the way of her wishes, Chakotay. It is just safer for Kathryn if you are here. We have discussed this before…"

"If I stay here…," Chakotay warned.

At that moment, the sound of rattling dishes was heard, as Ludvig entered the room bearing a large, free-floating anti-grav tray. "My special dessert just for you, Captain Chakotay. Perigord tarte au noix but I switched the traditional choice of walnuts with toasted pecans. Admiral Kathryn suggested that you might like this," Ludvig proudly announced as he placed the individual tartes on their cut crystal plates, at each place setting before leaving the room.

"What?" Chakotay was puzzled by the offering.

"Pecan pie," Kathryn's voice from the doorway announced, as she went to her chair by her husband, across from Chakotay's position. "It is the French version of pecan pie. I'd have almost given up coffee for a slice of this tarte when we were in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay. It's that good."

Kathryn watched as Chakotay stuck his Georgian silver dessert form into the tarte. After he tasted it, the look on his face said everything that she needed to know about his opinion of this version of pecan pie.

"You're right, Kathryn. We could have skipped exploring a nebula or two, if I'd known that something this wonderful would have awaited us in the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay enthusiastically agreed, for the man did have a sweet tooth.

"I'll send your compliments to Ludvig." She laughed before she reached over and squeezed her husband's hand. "Now, tell me, Jean-Luc, what were the pair of you discussing before I reentered the room?"

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resist a bad pun? Moi? Impossible!


	49. Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay, Jean-Luc and Kathryn have an interesting dinner.

TV Shows » StarTrek: The Next Generation » DETACHED: JEAN-LUC: HIS STORY  
Author: mabb5 «   
Rated: T - English - Family/Romance - Reviews: 76 - Published: 08-29-16 - Updated: 08-23-17 id:12124776  
DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 49

Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

At first, Chakotay wasn't that nervous. Kathryn was laughing. It was a delightful sound to him, for the dark undercurrents that had tainted her laugh during their last few years on board Voyager, had disappeared. She actually sounded comfortable. And he was at least glad for that little blessing.

Plus, her husband was being cordial. After Jean-Luc served him a high ball cut crystal tumbler filled with non-alcoholic apple cider, Chakotay began to relax, as he observed the byplay between husband and wife. He could only describe it as affectionate. Part of his soul was very glad that Kathryn had found someone worthy of her. Jean-Luc clearly made her happy. And she was glowing in anticipation of having their daughter. The noble portion of his soul was pleased.

Of course, there was a part of his soul that envied Jean-Luc every breath that he breathed in Kathryn's presence. If Chakotay were to acknowledge his inner battle, he knew that when it came down to it, it was his fault that Kathryn was married to someone else.

Oh, he thought that he had had valid reasons to marry Annika. At the time, Chakotay had convinced himself to move on with his life, away from the turbulence that always seemed to envelop Kathryn. When Voyager had returned home, it had been an emotional, tempestuous time. Annika had, uncharacteristically, been frightened of confronting the reality of Earth. She had been needy, emotional; she had clung to Chakotay. And Chakotay was flattered that she needed him. And his battered and deprived ego could not refuse the lure of a beautiful woman who seemingly wanted him only for himself. So, he had made a terrible mistake, only mitigated by the fact that he was now a father. Whatever the future consequences of his marriage and then divorce to Annika Hansen may be, the very existence of Kolopak was reason enough to have hope.

So, Chakotay sat there in his hover chair, sipping his cider, as he watched the love of his life steal forkfuls of pecan pie from her husband. There had been a time when she had pilfered dessert from his plate. But his folly had changed that. And now he could only watch.

"What have you told Chakotay?" Kathryn asked her husband as she finished off his tarte.

Jean-Luc chose to ignore this question. "Shall I ask Ludvig if there is any more tarte?" Jean-Luc casually inquired.

She glared at him for a second as if she were insulted. Then she carefully considered his actual question, and nodded. "Yes. I'm still a bit hungry."

Jean-Luc almost rolled his eyes. "You're admitting it?" he incredulously asked, even as he tapped a message on a padd.

"Kathryn Janeway asking for seconds. Now this is a most momentous occasion," Chakotay chuckled as he nodded his acceptance to Jean-Luc's silent inquiry. "There were weeks on board Voyager when I think that the only thing that Kathryn consumed, other than coffee, was vegetable bouillon."

"Maybe it was the company that I was keeping that kept killing my appetite," Kathryn countered as she turned her head when she heard the dining room door slide open. "Besides, I am in my third trimester now. I officially have 'pregnancy brain'. I can eat, say or do whatever I want. And then I can blame it on my hormone soaked brain."

"Chakotay, I do believe that we have been warned," Jean-Luc suggested, as he reached over to squeeze her hand before he helped Ludvig distribute the two plates of tartes that the chef had just brought into the room. He motioned toward the empty dessert plates. "As you can see, Ludvig, your tarte is a success."

"I made a few more if anyone might be interested in having them for lunch tomorrow," the portly chef suggested. "Otherwise, I fear that they will have disappeared by dinner time," he added. "I believe that Madam Mildred is coming over in the afternoon," Ludvig idly remarked, as if there was no connection between that event and the probable disappearance of his tartes before dinner time.

"Ludvig, why do I have the suspicion that your definition of a 'few more' actually is at least a couple dozen more tartes?" Kathryn asked between bites of her pecan tarte.

"Well, there are the children, and the household staff…," Ludvig started to explain.

Kathryn laughed. "As long as there are a few tartes left for me," she teased the chef.

"Always," Ludvig promised. The man chuckled. "I have been around too many pregnant women in my life to ever deny the momma-to-be whatever she craves. And to be honest, I enjoy being able to help when needed." He nodded toward the table. "If there is nothing else, I will say adieu." With that, he pivoted and left the room.

"Something tells me that his wife Bronislawa," she turned toward Chakotay and explained, "I think I mentioned to you, that Brawny has been posted to the Enterprise…" Chakotay nodded. "Anyway, when she was pregnant, I think she led him a merry dance."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow before asking, "And are you not doing so, yourself?"

She swatted her husband's arm. "Oh, you are a horrible man."

"Of course, I am," Jean playfully argued. "I am a Starfleet rear admiral. What else could I be but horrible? Over-bearing? Insensitive?" He lifted up his wife's hand and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles. "And adoring?"

She swatted him again. Then she turned toward Chakotay. "Do you see what I have to put up with, living here, Chakotay?"

"You've only got one rear admiral. That's easy to handle. If I stay here, I will have to deal with two rear admirals," he countered. "I am beginning to believe that I do need to get out of here as quickly as possible. The pair of you are a positively disrupting influence," Chakotay rejoined.

She leaned, as best she could since her tummy was somewhat in the way, across the table and reached for his hand. Suddenly, she was serious. "No, Chakotay. Don't go. I want you to stay. With Kolopak. For as long as you need."

Chakotay shook his head. "No, Kathryn…," he protested with new-found determination. For if he stayed, there was only one inevitable outcome between Kathryn and himself in the future.

"We have a practical reason for asking you to live with us, Chakotay," a softly-spoken admiral remarked, as if he had again sensed some of Chakotay's turmoil. And fears. And now he sought to allay them.

This caught Chakotay's attention.

"Those other possibilities that I mentioned, earlier. They wouldn't just benefit you. Or Kathryn. But, they could be beneficial to the three of us." Jean-Luc sounded very reasonable; almost aloof.

"Jean-Luc, you said that I had options. What other options?" For though he really did not want to live around Jean-Luc and Kathryn, and watch all that he could have had, had he not been so foolish over Annika (not to mention issues with his own stupid pride and his hurt feelings), he could understand Jean-Luc's point about keeping Kathryn safe. Keeping his former captain secure, even under the best of circumstances, was a difficult thing to achieve. But during these uncertain times? He did not envy Mike Ayala's job.

Kathryn suddenly trembled and then blushed.

And Chakotay almost dropped his fork. Kathryn never blushed. At least, it was something that she had rarely done on board Voyager. Then he glanced over at Jean-Luc, kitty-corner from him at the head of the dining table. Good lord. The former captain of the Enterprise had a tinge of pink to his cheeks too!

"What?" For he sensed something about Kathryn – a sense of excitement as if she were about to confound an opponent. And the hairs always stood up on the back of his neck whenever he sensed this something from his ex-captain. Whatever she was plotting, it was going to be a doozy.

Jean-Luc began. "In a little while, Kathryn and I will have three children."

"And I am happy for you," Chakotay quickly mentioned. "I know that Kathryn will be a great mother."

"I agree and she already is." He paused and took another deep breath. "And, as I was saying, Kathryn and I will have three children that will need to be protected and guided, especially, when you consider my age, if something should happen to me."

Chakotay could not begin to fathom where Jean-Luc was going with this conversation.

Kathryn spoke up. "Chakotay, Jean-Luc and I want you to become our children's legal guardian if something should happen to Jean-Luc, to me, or to both of us."

Chakotay hitched a quick breath. He had not been expecting this.

Jean-Luc continued. "And conversely, if something should happen to you, or if you should choose to go on a deep space mission, Kathryn and I would like you to authorize us to become the legal guardian – either temporary or permanent - to Kolopak. We would be your backup, so to speak."

"So, that's why you want me to stay in the guest house. We can all become one big, happy family." He hoped he didn't sound too sarcastic about their proposition, though his mind was somewhat stunned by their suggestion. A deep set, slow anger was beginning to kindle in his soul as the thought of the very heartlessness of this request rose. He could not see it for the trusting honor that it was at the moment. For his soul screamed at the callousness of Kathryn asking this of him. She had to know. To be so near to her, yet to have to keep his distance and not touch her, was not something that he could endure suffering again.

Kathryn warmly smiled, ignoring his obvious undertones, even though she could almost guess as to what about their suggestion might be upsetting to him. "That is somewhat the idea, Chakotay." She squeezed his hand. "Sort of one big, extended family, where we take care of each other, similar to what we formed on board Voyager. Where we do whatever needs to be done to take care of all of our needs. To love, comfort and defend each other, Chakotay, as a family."

Chakotay blinked. There was something odd about what she had just said, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Yet.

When he began thinking again, Chakotay argued, "Jean-Luc, you have a brother and sister-in-law, not to mention an actual half-brother to the twins. Any of them would be a far more appropriate guardian than me."

"Robert is much older than me, and he is very set in his vintner ways for he takes after our father. Anna might adjust to such an environment on a full-time basis, but there is no way that I would put my son through the hell of having to live in a family that does not understand or appreciate his love of the stars. And then there is Wesley. My stepson has spent most of his adult life searching for his mother. I don't want to burden him with more responsibilities by having him take care of his brother and sister when he should be creating his own future and starting his own family." Jean-Luc paused and took a sip of his tea. "I am not saying that if something should happen, my family and Wesley will not be involved. They will. Just like Gretchen and Phoebe will be involved, too. All of them just will not be the legal guardians of the children, which is about the best leverage I can give you against them should they combine forces. For they can be a contentious but loving crowd when they wish to be."

All of this sounded reasonable to Chakotay. But his senses were telling him that there was a lot more that was about to be revealed.

"And?" was all that the former first officer asked.

Jean-Luc took a deep breath, inwardly acknowledged the rightness of the question, and then explained, quite calmly and coolly, which of course, belied the man's inner feelings. "The simplest way to accomplish all of this would be for Kathryn to marry you."

For a moment, Chakotay forgot to breathe. When he could move, he turned his head to look at his former captain. "Kathryn?" he managed to croak out, even as the ball of fire in the pit of his heart was suddenly doused with a dash of hope for the impossible. His mind knew that what he was hearing couldn't possibly be true – could it?

"What Jean-Luc and I are proposing is a three-party marriage, sort of based on the way that the Denobulans do it." Her words were a bit rushed, as if she were very nervous too. "We've consulted with Roland Hand, our family lawyer about the details. Mr. Hand explained the legality of a three-party marriage and how it would work according to Federation law."

This was almost too much for him. True, it was too soon after Annika's betrayal for Chakotay to even contemplate such an action. He couldn't understand why they would even think of such a thing… And then he saw the look in Jean-Luc's eyes. And he couldn't interpret it, precisely. This man's deepest motives were hidden from him. And yet…

"The truth," Chakotay abruptly ordered. "Or I am leaving."

"I loved Beverly," Jean-Luc carefully announced, as if no one in the room knew that fact. "She was my soul mate and my true love." He looked away from them, toward the gardens. "I know what it is like to be without the love of my life. Now, that I care for Kathryn, I cannot deprive her of experiencing what I had once known. She has the right for such sublime happiness, too. Eventually."

Many thoughts ran through Chakotay's mind. Thoughts about Kathryn and Jean-Luc. One thing came to the forefront of his thoughts. Nobility. Both of them were honorable people seeking a noble solution. And then he began to have an inkling of comprehension. Jean-Luc Picard was in an impossible situation. First and foremost, he loved his children and wanted to keep them safe. Secondly, whether he would say the words out loud or not, Jean-Luc loved Kathryn. And because Jean-Luc did love Kathryn, he cared about his wife's honor. And this three-way marriage was Jean-Luc's solution to an ethical dilemma that sooner or later would have arisen. For as long as Chakotay lived within the proximity of Kathryn, their love for each other would have risen up.

For deep in his heart, Chakotay knew that he could not live around Kathryn, and not want to become her lover.

But Chakotay did not have to accept this situation and all of its implications.

"Chakotay," Kathryn whispered, as if she were about to plead her case to him.

He stopped her from speaking. "No, Kathryn. I need time to think." He placed his dessert plate back onto the table from off of the hoverchair's raised tray, then placed the tray to the side of his chair in its storage slot. "I am going back to the guest house," he gruffly announced. Even as he maneuvered his chair away from the dining table, Chakotay just had to remark, "It's been a most unusual dinner. But, I thank you for the invitation."

"Chakotay, I'll walk you home," Kathryn quickly asserted, as she stood to go with Chakotay.

The man's smile did not reach his eyes as he shook his head, denying her suggestion. "No, Kathryn. I really do need to be alone for a while."

"You need to contact your spirit guide?" she quickly guessed even as she still moved over to him.

"Something like that," he answered, with just a slight tinge of amusement coloring his words, as the reality of what just occurred sank in. "It's not every day a man gets propositioned, quite like this, by two rear admirals."

He couldn't help but notice that Kathryn turned pink again.

"Chakotay," she protested.

He moved toward the terrace doors. "You mind?" he politely asked. Kathryn silently opened up the terrace door. He stopped next to her, reached up and touched her hand, holding it for a moment. "I really do need to think about all of this, Kathryn."

She nodded even as she stepped aside to permit him to go out onto the terrace. She watched him as he rounded the corner of the building onto the path that led to the guesthouse. Then, Kathryn turned to stare at her husband.

"Well, that went well," was Jean-Luc's only dryly uttered comment.

"Better than I'd hoped," she weakly laughed. "At least Chakotay didn't say 'no' outright. Or accuse us of being unrepentant degenerates."

"It might help to know that Chakotay's tribe on Dorvan did have open marriages," Jean-Luc mused, as if that bit of information might help his wife's state of mind.

"The only problem is that Chakotay has not been a true member of his tribe for decades. He has his own moral code. I just hope that we have not just insulted it."

TBC


	50. A Few Minor Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesley and Data confabulate. Riker encounters fatherhood. And then shares a drink with Quark.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 50

A Few, Minor Discoveries

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Data, look at this." Wesley looked up from the console that had captured his attention, and motioned for his friend to come over. He waved his hand in the direction of a wall screen. "If I am translating the Ferengi language correctly, Grand Magnus Zek travelled to quite a few star systems using the transwarp drive. The Ferengi version of the universal translator has over one hundred languages in its database that our Federation version does not recognize. I am starting some comparative analyses of the language structures."

Data inspected the console that Wesley had accessed on board the Grand Nagus Zek's former personal yacht. "There are one-hundred-and-eleven unidentified languages, Wesley. I shall work on having our universal translator learn them once your initial examination is finished. The knowledge of these languages might become useful once we have incorporated the transwarp drive in our ships. I shall forward everything that we have discovered to Leah Brahms and her team in approximately thirty-two hours and twenty-seven minutes. I estimate that it will take that long to accomplish our goals."

Wesley double checked a few more screens and then collapsed onto one of the Ferengi built conn chairs. "Ouch." He fidgeted a bit and then announced, "As soon as everything that is a priority is accomplished, we need to get engineering in here to put in some Fed standard seating. These chairs are not only uncomfortable – they hurt."

"Wesley, I had noted that their size and height were not compliant with my physical requirements which is why I have chosen to stand," Data evenly remarked as he was rapidly scanning the screens that were flying by on his terminal.

The android blinked.

"Wesley, I have now coordinated the astronomical locations of the planetary systems belonging to these unknown languages. I shall analyze these locations, correlate them with your sister Anna's star charts that she provided, and then see if I can establish the order of importance of exploration for discovering our missing people."

"I think that it is highly unlikely that the Nagus went to the locations where the pirates might have taken the missing personnel, Data. I am sure that the chief reason as to why the Nagus went to those places registered in his travel log is because he was going to collect his shares of the profit from these locations. The Grand Nagus was more concerned with the latinum and not with the lives that were being destroyed by his pursuit of it."

"Is it not possible that these locations could serve both purposes, Wesley? The source of the income that has been derived, as well as the place where the income is obtained?"

"I suppose so." Wesley brightened. "At least now we have places to look."

"Which is something that we did not have before," Data added as he continued analyzing the information. "There is now hope."

"Real hope," Wesley whispered, as the enormity of everything hit him. For the first time in years, he was becoming accustomed to the unfamiliar feeling of optimism in his heart.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Gaga. Goo-goo."

"Don't. You. Dare," Lwaxana imperially ordered as she rushed over to her precious granddaughter's bassinette. She wagged her finger in the father's face, narrowly missing striking Will Riker's beard.

Startled by Lwaxana's anger, Will Riker raised his head, for he had been about to add, 'coochie-coo', to his list of sins. "What?"

"My granddaughter may only be one-quarter Betazed, but that twenty-five percent still has empathic and telepathic abilities. I can sense that she has them. When you speak to her, you must have the image or the concept of your words in your mind as well. Nonsense words only fill her head with nonsense," Lwaxana righteously proclaimed.

"And I suppose you yelled at my father about speaking nonsense to me, too?" a calm and slightly amused voice asked from the entrance to the nursery. Deanna stepped into the room, wearing a silvery caftan that caused her husband's eyes to light up, for she looked wonderful in it, with her ebony curls cascading down her shoulders and back. Of course, Deanna would always look beautiful to Will's eyes.

"Of course not. I never yelled at your father," Lwaxana primly announced, denying such an action.

Deanna rolled her dark brown eyes, which was a habit she only displayed around her mother. Even as a young child, she could remember the very loud rows between her father and her mother. And how well they made up afterward.

"However, your father did need some instructions about being around a newborn baby. Men!" Lwaxana conceded as she waved her billowing purple and rust colored sleeves closer to the bassinette. The dramatically flowing fringed sleeves got entangled with the realistic models of the "Starships of the Line" mobile that was hanging above the bassinette. It took the lady a few seconds to rescue her dress without damaging Geordi's baby shower gift to Kestra.

Will Riker stood and almost rolled his eyes, but then thought the better of it since Lwaxana was now looking at him directly.

Deanna rolled her eyes again, for Will's sake.

Deanna came over to her daughter and picked her up, cuddling her into a soft blue baby blanket that she had been holding. "Ooooohhhh, my Little One, you like your papa cooing nonsense words to you, don't you?" she asked as she nuzzled her daughter. Since her daughter was not yet howling, Deanna recognized that her child was almost but not quite hungry at the moment. Of course, this situation would change rather quickly in a few minutes, for this baby ruled her nursery. And she instinctively knew it. But for the moment, calm reigned.

"Deanna!" Lwaxana protested.

"You don't think that my daughter should learn that her father is full of nonsense?" Deanna not-too-innocently asked her mother.

Will Riker couldn't understand the identity changeability of Deanna's intended target. For she had started by going after her mother. Now, she was going after him. Such was life with Deanna.

"Well," Lwaxana grudgingly conceded, "when you phrase it that way…"

Deanna held her daughter closely as she settled herself into the ash, spindle back rocking chair that had been a baby shower gift from Dr. Ogawa-Powell. "Mother, there is a lot of nonsense in this universe. My daughter is going to have to learn how to recognize it when she hears it. So, where better to start learning that fact than with her father to teach her?"

"Deanna?" Will questioned. He thought that she might have been insulting him, but he wasn't really sure, since the mood that he was reading off of his wife was one of total absorption in their daughter. Plus, there was that glint in her beautiful, beautiful dark brown eyes. That always meant something, too.

She bestowed upon him a most beautiful smile as she sensed his mild confusion. He had been confused a lot lately thanks to her and her mother. "Don't you know that I love you because of all of the wonderful nonsense that you occasionally blather?"

"Huh?" Will was most definitely muddled.

But Lwaxana was not. Lwaxana silently stepped backward as she watched Will kneel to the side of Deanna's rocker, in order to simply gaze upon his wife and daughter. Lwaxana's daughter was casting her enchantment over her husband again, just like Lwaxana had tried to teach her how to do, years ago. She had not thought that those instructions had been heeded by Deanna; that Deanna had learned anything. Now, she was gratified to discover that her daughter had really been paying attention to her mother's life lessons when it came to captivating men, and keeping them in line. For this man worshipped his wife at this moment. And the signs were very auspicious not to mention pretty good in general, that Will Riker would do so for the rest of his life.

As Deanna began to lower the front of her gown in order to breast feed her now squirming baby, Lwaxana silently left the room, feeling happier than she had felt in a very long time. At least something was continuing to go right in her universe

Lwaxana would drink a toast to things going right in the universe for it so rarely happened in real life. She did not doubt that Mr. Homm would have the cocktails ready when she returned to her quarters. And that Mr. Homm would join her in a toast or three.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Starship captains really could not take paternity leave when they were on active duty on board a starship that they commanded. Will's senior staff was covering for him and they almost made the captain of the Enterprise think that maybe he wasn't quite as important or needed as his ego thought that he was for they were doing just fine without him. But still, he did have to check in several times during the day, just to make sure that there was nothing major occurring.

Will still wasn't quite sure what had happened in the nursery. There had been a certain gleam in Deanna's eye that warned him that maybe his wife had succeeded in pulling something over on him. The only problem was that he was not quite sure as to what the 'what' was. The longer he was married, it seemed that the more confused he would become. And it had taken him a while to realize that deep down in his heart he was learning to accept the idea that he was actually loving every minute of it.

Getting back to work in his ready room, he began reading through the numerous reports that Commander Data and Commander Worf had deemed necessary for his perusal. At least, the Enterprise's return to Sector One seemed to be going smoothly.

And then he read Data's top secret padd with its private report about Wesley's discovery of the unknown languages and the correlating planetary locations. It was welcome news albeit somewhat surprising news. For Captain Riker could not fathom how a Ferengi who had lasted as long as the Grand Nagus had survived for so many years had somehow made the rookie mistake of seemingly forgetting about this possibly damaging information being found in his former yacht's computer system. It was worrisome enough of a problem for Captain Riker to politely summon Quark to his ready room.

"Captain, what can I do for you?" Quark asked with just a touch of nervousness, for he was still wary around this captain. The commander that Will Riker used to be had been the kind of man that Quark classified as a 'sharp' number, but he had also been a reasonable, honorable and understanding Starfleet officer, which Quark considered to be a rare Starfleet officer indeed.

"Mr. Quark, how well do you know Grand Nagus Zek?" Will chose the direct route for getting information.

"Uh, he's married to my mother. Ishka seems happy enough. But beyond some pitifully few minor business dealings, I do not know the Nagus that well at all. Grand Nagus Zek promised to one day take me into his family business, but so far, he has not done much in that regard."

"That's not what I meant at all, Mr. Quark." Will stood, walked over to his replicator, about to order a raktajino and then shocked the Ferengi to his very soul when the captain of the Enterprise asked, "Would you care for something, Mr. Quark?"

Quark really wasn't used to polite behavior from Starfleet officers who had not been stationed on Deep Space 9. "A Bolian ale, spicy, if you don't mind, Captain Riker." Quark knew that the drink would be synthehol, but he was thirsty enough to drink it anyway.

"That sounds good," Riker remarked. "Computer, two Bolian spice ales." the captain ordered. A moment later, he returned to his captain's desk, placing the ales on the surface, and then sliding one in Quark's direction.

After both men had taken a sip of their drinks, Quark confronted the captain. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Considering all that we have recently been through together, Quark, why don't you call me Will?" the captain of the Enterprise cordially suggested.

"Sure, Will," Quark hesitantly responded.

"My engineers are working on the yacht that Grand Nagus Zek bestowed upon Ambassadress Troi-Wiley. And my technicians discovered that the travel logs had not been purged. Is that a typical protocol for the Grand Nagus?"

Quark took a big gulp of his ale, now heartily wishing that it was the real thing before answering Will Riker. He considered things some more, took another sip of ale, and then answered the captain. "I couldn't really say." He contemplated his stepfather's characteristic behavior before commenting, "I don't think that my stepfather, the Grand Nagus Zek, pays any attention to those kinds of details, Will. Grand Nagus Zek will know down to the last micro-sliver of latinum how much you might have in your bank account. But, worrying about mundane technical details about protocols concerning his old yacht? Zek pays his sycophants to take care of that sort of thing. He would never even think to take care of it himself, or ever even think to order someone else to do so. Grand Nagus Zek would just assume that whatever was necessary when it came to the maintenance of his yacht, would be done by his minions." Quark finished off his ale. "In all likelihood, those subordinates just simply forgot to erase it." Quark leaned forward, and conspiratorially added, "I hear that Grand Nagus Zek is having built for him, a much, much more luxurious yacht with a lot of extraordinarily extravagant extras." Quark leaned back in his chair before he observed, "His old yacht is no longer of any concern to the Grand Nagus."

Will nodded, as if he were relieved by Quark's words. "No matter. We'll just erase those unwanted, unnecessary logs ourselves, as a courtesy to the Grand Nagus. As you might imagine, it was Commander Data who brought this to my attention. He was concerned that the Grand Nagus might need access to this information." Will took another sip of ale. "Of course, Grand Nagus Zek's personal pilot should have copies of these flight logs as well. So, in a way, the Grand Nagus already does have this information."

"So there is no need to worry about it, or contact the Nagus," Quark hastily suggested as he had no desire to discover what it was that Will Riker and his senior staff might have actually been doing with the information that they had uncovered. Whatever it was, was now no longer of any concern to Quark. And if the Grand Nagus had been foolish enough to give the Starfleet computer technicians terabytes full of information, well that was on the Grand Nagus and his technical people. Quark knew nothing. And that is what Quark would swear to if he were ever grilled by the Grand Nagus Zek about such an inconsequential incident.

Of course, what Quark might be compelled to confess to his mother was another matter indeed. For Quark could never lie to his Moogie.

TBC


	51. Moving Things Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The veil of the assassin is finally moved a bit. Mildred and B'Elanna share a glass of sangria.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 51:

Moving Things Forward

=/\= =/\= =/\=

He wasn't just an expert. He was the expert. The fixer. The professional. The closer. The cleaner. The perfect assassin. The 'whatever his clients wanted to call him'…

He had been called many different names over the years, for no one would ever learn his real name. He had lost his real name decades ago. He hadn't wanted to lose his given name. But it had been stripped from him, with efficient coldness and the shedding of too much blood. He could never go back to what he had once been.

Such is life, he then decided, at this one fateful moment during the lowest period of his life. And he learned to accept what bitter, cruel fate had handed to him. Then he vowed to never ever let fate dictate to him ever again. He would choose. He would do. And fate would be damned.

For the most part, he had been successful in his quest to control his life. In the darkened corridors of over five hundred alien cities located on non-Federation planets, whatever name he was being referred to as, was whispered with respect.

There were many who requested his services. Most appeals were refused or ignored. For he was the one who chose. Once he agreed to accept an assignment, he got it done. Whatever the assignment was, he accomplished it. Usually, he did it with minimal fuss, and an even lesser chance of being identified much less caught. For the Mordeca was a small, non-descript tan humanoid of Terran, Betazoid and Risian ancestry. He also had slight telepathic and empathic talents. He was adept at chameleon-like skills, morphing into different beings either physically or assisted by prosthetics and makeup, and then blending into backgrounds. His personal abilities included the skills of a master of the Krav Maga which empowered him enough to fight four Klingon warriors at a time – and win. And he was calculating enough to have solved Fermat's theorem all by himself, in spite of the fact that the solution had been found years earlier. His unassisted solution was the correct one too.

But this assignment was different. The Mordeca had not wanted to accept it for though his sense of morality has disappeared decades ago, he found this specific request to be distasteful to him; fraught with potential problems. The only reason as to why he had finally accepted former-DaiMon Bok's commission was because the Orion Overlords, with whom he did the majority of his business, had asked him as a personal favor to deal with Bok's problematic requests. And he found that he could not turn down the possibility of the Orion Overlords owing him a favor. Though his life might have been simpler if he had just killed ex-DaiMon Bok instead of agreeing to work for him.

So, he had accepted Bok's assignment. The only problem was, Bok was a crazy Ferengi. And the Orion Overlords had neglected to mention this little detail about Bok being insane to him. The Mordeca was not happy about that. The Orion Overlords would owe him more than they might have bargained for, once this assignment was finished. That is, if this assignment was ever finished, for he had been working on it for almost a year, now.

For Bok kept changing what it was that he wanted done.

The latest change was that Bok wanted the Mordeca to kill Jean-Luc Picard's wife and then his son. To murder both of them in front of Jean-Luc Picard, before the Mordeca was to painfully kill Jean-Luc Picard. Before, the Mordeca had been told by the Orion Overlords to distract Picard by 'playing' with Picard's wife, thereby tormenting him before ex-DaiMon Bok got around to ordering the assassination of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. And to do so, with minimal collateral damage. This, the Mordeca had accepted. But now, Bok was changing the parameters of his mission yet one more time. And the Mordeca did not like this one little bit.

He watched from his cloaked ship, in a geosynchronous orbit above Picard House. His spy tools had been in place for months now; everything from tapping into their comm lines to little android insects buzzing around. Those drone insects were trying to capture images off of hand-written note pads and pocket padds that were rarely left out on the tops of desks where his drones could buzz by to see what was written. The Mordeca had been amused when the security of Picard House had dragged out old-fashioned chalk boards to use instead of their terminals, once they had figured out that their communications had been bugged. He had been able to monitor what was on those boards with a minimum of craftiness.

The Mordeca was not amused, though, once he'd seen that certain Maquis security personnel had joined the team, for he respected the Maquis, though he did not necessarily sympathize with them.

The Mordeca at one point in his life, had considered joining the Maquis. But, his desire for latinum had quashed that uncharacteristic impulse. However, he had kept track of every competent, known Maquis since then, for one never knew when one might need proficient mercenaries. And after the massacre of most of the Maquis by the Cardassians, the few Maquis that had survived were looking for work. And most of them did have the kind of skills that he occasionally needed to hire.

The Mordeca had learned a long time ago, to never kill unless it was necessary or was a specific part of his client's request. And the Mordeca understood that if the Maquis were defending the Picards with their characteristic skill and inventiveness, blood would be shed. He did not doubt that he would succeed when he attacked Picard House. He had put everything in motion for the accomplishment of that plan. But, still, he did not want to see good men and women needlessly killed especially because of the behest of a Ferengi madman.

And then there was the problem of Kathryn Janeway. When the Mordeca had accepted this assignment, he had not known the real identity of Picard's celebrity wife. She had not been factored into his original plans. For the Ferengi had a tendency to discount or ignore females of any species. A female was of no importance to a Ferengi's plans. Bok had not considered Admiral Janeway to be significant enough to mention her by name during his initial consultations with the Mordeca. And once the Mordeca had committed himself to serving Bok, it was only then that he learned about Picard's wife. Kathryn Janeway's existence had greatly complicated his plans.

Murdering Kathryn Janeway was a problem that he had not anticipated. She was Starfleet's golden girl, the Delta Quadrant Darling, according to the Federation news services. It was one thing to kill a man who had been Locutus of Borg. Most of the Federation would not mourn or care about his passing. But to destroy Kathryn Janeway – especially a pregnant Kathryn Janeway? That was going to become a problem and it would become a very big one too. Her murder would bring Starfleet up-in-arms and rouse the Federation. The news services would practically riot. And none of them would not stop looking for the perpetrator until they had captured him.

What Bok was now paying him would in no way compensate for that kind of consequence.

He had a lot to reconsider as he watched his quarry go about their lives.

Soon it would be time to call in his mercenaries and countermand all of the Starfleet security about Picard House. But the Mordeca had yet to decide just exactly what he was going to do, above and beyond the killing Jean-Luc Picard. He really didn't see any real reason to murder Kathryn Janeway or Billy Bob. As for the daughter Anna, Bok had never ever mentioned her existence, so the Mordeca did not consider her to be part of his contract.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres-Paris had not expected to find herself beamed into a sunny atrium, surrounded by white walls with vibrant purple or red flowers cascading down from hanging baskets, when she had requested a private meeting with Mildred Krebs.

"Welcome," a voice announced, as B'Elanna looked across the tinkling carved marble fountain with its copy of the 'Three Graces' mounted at the top, to the woman standing on the other side of the rectangular, open air room. "This is the room that helps me stay sane," Mildred casually remarked, as she waved an arm in the direction of a small wrought iron patio table and matching chairs surrounded by quite a few potted ferns and bromeliads, that were located along the sides of the reflecting basin. Fat gold and white koi could be seen lazily searching about for leftover morsels from their last feeding, or the occasional doomed bug that would fly too close to the water's surface.

"Where are we?" a slightly confused B'Elanna asked. "I thought I was beaming over to somewhere in Greece?"

"We're on the Greek Island of Santorini, in the Cyclades. Years ago, I found this house near Fira, overlooking the caldera and the Aegean Sea. I restored the house, added the atrium, spent the best vacations of my life with one of my departed husbands here, and only now come to stay here, when I need to get away from the madness that is my life at the Academy and Picard House. You are the first Starfleet officer that I have ever permitted to visit me here. Not even Jean-Luc Picard has crossed this threshold."

"I see." B'Elanna did not.

Mildred laughed knowing that the engineer did not. "Technically, I don't own this place where I disappear every once in a while. One of my dummy companies bought it for me a long time ago. If anyone tried to discover that I come here now and then, they would have a lot of digging to do. It would take them quite a while, not to mention costing them a lot of latinum to even get close to cracking some of the firewalls I've put in place. Besides, with what I've added to this place as security measures, this dwelling is about as safe and secure as Whiney's admiral's cave in the basement of his mansion."

Mildred sat down on one of the café chairs and again motioned for B'Elanna to join her. She poured into two tall glasses, the Greek version of Sangria; a dark red wine filled with fresh fruit floating at the top of each glass. "It's pretty mild," Mildred explained as she handed one of the glasses to her guest who was now sitting opposite of her. "I drink it for the pleasure of its taste, and not for the alcohol content."

B'Elanna took a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise, as she drank some more. "It's really good," she observed as she drank the drink that included various citric juices and at least one exotic fruit that she could not identify. B'Elanna was feeling a bit out of place wearing her duty uniform when he hostess was wearing a tank top over her jeans.

"You said that you needed to see me?" Mildred questioned, as she placed her glass down on to the mosaic tile top of the table.

"I wanted to run something by you."

"Away from the prying eyes and ears of android insects," Mildred casually suggested.

"Something like that," B'Elanna agreed with a smile. "I've been studying all of the Picard/Janeway mess, going back to the first of the incidents with Kathryn Janeway – re-examining all the facts from hopefully a different point of view."

"And?"

"What if Kathryn Janeway is not really the target? What if she's been the diversion?"

"And the murders?" Mildred just had to mention.

"Again, part of the diversion, though I am now coming to believe that Ensign Esposito's death truly was an accident."

"But Ensign Manion's murder, B'Elanna?"

"Part of some sort of plan that may or may not be associated with the attacks on Kathryn Janeway."

Mildred slowly nodded before picking up her glass and drinking from it again. "I'm been considering the possibility of that too." She put her glass down. "I think that there are two different groups plotting here. One group is trying to control what Jean-Luc Picard is doing or is going to do. They are the long-term planners. The other group is trying to cause bodily harm to the Picard family, with a motive that I do not doubt is revenge. This probably means that a crazy Ferengi named Bok is behind it. After learning about what Bok did to Jason in order to convince Picard that the kid was his son, that Ferengi is capable of everything."

"Commander Reynold discussed Bok with us a while back," B'Elanna mentioned, "and I agree with you on that score. But that is not why I wanted to talk to you. You see, every once in a while, I tend to think more like a Maquis rather than like a Starfleet officer."

"That is understandable," Mildred agreed, not quite smiling over B'Elanna's statement, though she was sorely tempted to do so. B'Elanna's tendency to not think like a Starfleet officer was making her a legend on Utopia Prime, especially since she usually was right.

"Whoever has been attacking the Picards, is very, very clever, with access to technology that we don't know about, and the ability to disguise his ship almost to the point that it is not detectable." B'Elanna finished off her glass of wine before adding, "And that's what is keeping me awake at nights."

"You think that the security at Picard House is not adequate. Or, is being manipulated by this assailant?"

"We both know we've been sort-of dancing to this person's tune," B'Elanna explained. "Which is why I had a thought."

"Meaning?"

"What if when Kathryn Janeway's kimchee was poisoned, it wasn't because he found a weakness in the defense shield due to a transportation? What if he has figured out a way to get around the shield at will, transporter use or no transporter use?"

"I've considered that possibility, B'Elanna," Mildred agreed. "My engineers concede that it might be possible, but they don't seem to know how to do anything about preventing it, so far."

"Well, I might."

Mildred raised both eyebrows. "You've figured it out?"

"I think that our attacker has the technology to place a defense dome over and above the original defense shield, completely encompassing it, that we currently have in place. He basically covers up the original dome. Starfleet sensors might not notice that there is a shield on top of a shield, other than maybe a slight blip when it is put into place." B'Elanna pulled a padd. "I examined the defense shield logs during the two years prior to Admiral Picard's marriage to Admiral Janeway. The logs recorded on average, two anomalous blips every month." She leaned forward and brought up a graph on her padd. "Since Kathryn Janeway moved into Picard House, the average jumped to thirty-seven anomalous blips every month. And this month has already had forty-two of them and we've almost got another two weeks to go before the end of the month."

"The blips are speeding up." Mildred thought for a moment, "Which means that our bad guy is getting ready to do something."

"If his defense dome prevents Starfleet Command from noticing that there is an attack going on at Picard House, they won't be sending in the cavalry when the attack happens," B'Elanna quickly explained. "It will just be the security on the ground, plus your people, who will be the main defense of Picard House."

"Presumably when the attack happens, communications will be disrupted," Mildred concluded out loud.

"And if there are no alarms going off, the disruption might not be noticed for a few minutes, which might give him enough time," B'Elanna added. "Or, our perpetrator has a cover-up contingency plan in place for that, too."

"Fiendish." Mildred's expression turned a little grim. This villain was even smarter than what she had originally considered him to be.

"You really think it's possible?" B'Elanna just had to ask. Her husband Tom certainly believed in B'Elanna, but she wasn't so sure that he understood everything that she had been suggesting.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd put all my money on this scenario." Mildred stood, and nodded toward the house. "I am going to contact all of our security immediately. You, get back to Picard House and discretely inform the admirals of what might be going on." She eyed B'Elanna. "Have you told them yet, about all of your upgrades including the shifting Borg shields in the gardens?"

"You know about that?"

"I recognize a Maquis operation when I don't see one," Mildred not-too-sarcastically observed. "It didn't take my people that long to figure out what your 'gardeners' were installing in the garden. My Number One security agent called your plan 'ingenious' and he is a man of very few words much less actually using any of those words in praise. I have never heard him say that before about anyone else's plotting and subterfuge." Mildred refilled both of their glasses before adding, "Based on the way that you set up the Borg shields, you obviously think that the attack force is going to come from the beach."

"That seems to be the most likely point of attack."

Mildred nodded, "Which means that you have plotted defenses of those movable Borg shields for every other direction point of attack that you can think of, too."

"The beach is too obvious, which means that it probably will be the point of the first attack since our attacker will imagine that we will be focusing our attention elsewhere."

"And therefore, the obvious is no longer the obvious," Mildred concluded. She finished off her drink with several long draughts, and then stood. "I am assuming that Commanders Reynolds and Ayala are focusing on everything?"

"And then some," B'Elanna agreed, as she finished off her wine as well.

Mildred actually smiled broadly. "You just wanted to make sure that my cadre of invisible warriors were on the same page too."

"Something like that," B'Elanna laughingly agreed. "Does Admiral Picard know the extent of your plotting?"

"I have informed both admirals of all that they need to know. And wisely, both do not ask me too many unnecessary questions about my people, when it is not necessary for them to do so." Mildred smiled warmly over at the half-Klingon, half-human engineer. She really admired the way that B'Elanna's mind worked. "You didn't have to go through all of this to get my attention, B'Elanna. I have always taken you seriously as both an engineer and a genius from the moment that I read about how you were able to figure out that there was a duplicate Voyager floating ahead of you in time during your contact with the singularity and when your ship was stuck in its event horizon during your first couple of weeks on board Voyager. That took some creative thinking. And creative thinking is something that you can't teach too well. Either the person has it or they don't. You do, in spades."

"Thank you, I think," B'Elanna not-quite-politely responded, for she somewhat resented Mildred's 'I know everything' attitude. "Besides, it was Captain Janeway and I working together that solved that problem. I didn't do it by myself."

Mildred nodded, accepting the commander's word. "Anything else?" Mildred asked when she noticed that B'Elanna hadn't moved toward the in-house transporter pad.

"Yes. Before I go, could I have your sangria recipe? It really is good."

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is coming. Kathryn giving birth, resolving her relationship with Jean-Luc and Chakotay, and facing a group of assassins will all be handled within the next few chapters. Of course, that is not the end of the story. There is a lot more to tell once we get to what happened to Beverly, to be published under the title: RE-ATTACHED: BEVERLY'S STORY.


	52. Quiet Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn has a doctor appointment. Jean-Luc and Chakotay finally have the talk. Winston Holt Wiley has a conversation, too.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 52:

Quiet Conversations

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Dr. Katherine Pulaski eyed her patient, flat on her back on the biobed at the obstetrics unit of Starfleet Medical. Her patient's blood pressure was higher than what the doctor would have preferred. And the lady's personal EMH doctor was hovering about, acting as if the photonic being was the only doctor in the entire hospital complex who knew everything about anything. Since egotistical know-it-all doctors went back a millennium or more, Katherine Pulaski was not amused by Dr. Joseph emulating such stereotypical behavior.

She leaned over her patient. "Can't you program Doc Joseph to be less annoying, Kathryn?"

Kathryn chuckled at her doctor's words for she had heard that request many times during the past few years. "I tried that once. He lost something in the process."

"His ego?" Katherine suggested as hope started to rise in her breast at the thought of a humble EMH.

"No. He most definitely did not lose his ego. But his bedside manner got worse," Kathryn whispered back.

Katherine Pulaski shook her head in disbelief even as she incredulously asked, "His bedside manner was even worse than it is now?"

"Immensely annoying," the admiral informed the captain.

"I heard that!" announced a voice from the other side of the biobed. Then he checked his medical scanner one more time. "You're still ingesting too much salt, Admiral."

"I would prefer it if you would continue to keep calling me Kathryn," Kathryn calmly answered. "And my blood pressure is only up six points. I haven't held a salt shaker or a salt stick in my hand for over seven months now."

"That is still six points too many, Kathryn," the EMH countered.

"Actually, I sort of agree with Doc Joseph on this one," Katherine Pulaski ruefully mentioned. "At this stage of your pregnancy we would like to see your blood pressure in the lower ranges rather than the upper."

"Thank you, I think," the EMH dutifully replied. "And Admiral Kathryn, I do agree with my esteemed colleague."

"You don't have to be nice to me just because I agreed with you," Katherine answered back.

"I've been dealing with Kathryn Janeway for over eight years now. Believe me when I tell you that she can be the most difficult of patients," the EMH woefully explained to Dr. Pulaski. "Ex-Starfleet captains are the very worst patients," he announced as he ran a scanner over Kathryn, yet one more time.

"No Starfleet captain worth his or her salt would ever permit themselves to be harangued by their CMO!" Kathryn Janeway quickly countered, trying not to sound like she was getting annoyed.

"My wife's blood pressure is a problem?" asked a controlled and calming voice from the chair in the corner of the private examination room. For it was time to get this conversation to return to more important matters.

Both doctors turned to look at the man who had been sitting quietly in the corner.

"Not really, Jean-Luc," Katherine Pulaski admitted. "But high blood pressure is an issue that can quickly become a serious complication with pregnancy, especially in the third trimester. And it can become that critical a problem within a short amount of time."

"I am aware of that," Jean-Luc coolly replied. "So, what do you suggest?"

"That we schedule a date for the fetal transfer and birth," the EMH announced, gratified when he saw Dr. Katherine Pulaski slightly nod her head in agreement. "Your daughter is well past the point of viability in her development. She might need a week or two in NICU, but that should not be detrimental to her health."

"When?" grouched a lady, who was beginning to resemble a grumpy pregnant sehlat, from the biobed.

"A week from today?" Katherine Pulaski suggested before she turned to face the EMH. "I'll check her bioscans several times daily, and relay the information to you."

"Actually," the EMH hesitantly spoked, before he looked over at Admiral Picard. "I've been meaning to suggest to you, admirals, that I come and stay at Picard House for a few days? Or, maybe stay until the delivery?"

"What?" Now Jean-Luc's curiosity was aroused by the hologram's request.

"Well, I am sure that one of the chief reasons behind Admiral Janeway's blood pressure rise, is her continuing constant concern about the threat that has been hanging over her head. Lieutenant Ayala updated me all about it a few days ago," the EMH explained. "Though I will function as a doctor, perhaps I should assume an appearance of someone who might be unfamiliar to whomever it is that is spying upon you."

Jean-Luc slowly nodded in agreement, surprised by the EMH's tactical thinking. Apparently, some of the Emergency Command Hologram holographic programming had become blended with the EMH medical programming.

"A shape shifting independent photonic being is not something that even the best of tactical planners would anticipate." Jean-Luc Picard considered the EMH's words for a moment before adding, "And yes, both Kathryn and I do feel the stress of waiting for something to happen; for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. So, your presence and assistance would be deeply appreciated," Kathryn's husband readily admitted. He smiled over at his wife. "I can see why you kept your doctor around, and never deprogrammed him. He is a most useful individual."

"I like the doctor just as he is, annoying ego and all. And he is a hell of a masseuse," Kathryn just had to add, as she anticipated a few of the good aspects of having her EMH at her beck and call for the next week. She would not think about the worst aspects of being in his constant company for the next few days.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

It was about an hour from sunset when Jean-Luc Picard climbed the slowly rising flagstone path toward the prominence. A figure was sitting on a cast stone bench at the top, looking out onto the ocean. Jean-Luc wasn't that surprised that Chakotay had discovered one of Jean-Luc's favorite views in the gardens.

"May I join you?" Jean-Luc softly asked as he approached the man resting there. He noticed the hover chair parked several meters away from the bench. "You walked here?" he mentioned as he sat down on the opposite end of the bench.

"Yes, to both questions," Chakotay responded. "I pushed the hover chair up here, walking behind the chair, using the handlebars to balance my steps."

"Easier than using a four-legged walker," Jean-Luc agreed.

"You sound like you have had some experience."

"Too many times, unfortunately. Though none of my injuries would match the seriousness of yours, Chakotay."

"I'll probably ride the hover chair back to the guest house. I have finally begun to accept my current physical limitations," Chakotay admitted.

"Well, my impression of Phryne Fisher is that she'd make your life even more of a hell than it already is, if you overdid it and reinjured something," Jean-Luc just had to add.

"And then Doc Joseph would have to say a few dozen somethings, too," Chakotay grumbled.

"If you were fortunate, that is all that he would say," Jean-Luc mentioned. "From what I have observed of your EMH, he is more loquacious rather than less."

"Too true." Chakotay nodded toward the steins. "I presume that one of those steins is for me?"

"Yes," Picard chuckled as he handed the man a stasis stein, designed to keep its contents cold or hot, as well as unspilled. "It contains my brother Robert's version of an apple ale. I poured one for myself as well."

Chakotay lifted the lid to the stein and sniffed. He was somewhat surprised at what he smelled. "This is alcoholic."

"Very mildly so. About eight-proof. And yes, I did check with Dr. Pulaski, before I poured it for you. She approved."

"I knew there was a reason as to why that I liked that woman doctor," Chakotay opined as he took his first sip. His eyes widened in surprised. "This is really good," he remarked as he drank a bit more. And then he placed his stein by his hip on top of the bench. "So, why did you decide to bring this ale to me, this night, Jean-Luc?" Chakotay too-casually asked.

"I thought that we should talk some more, even though we have already discussed some of the issues," Jean-Luc just as casually replied.

"About what?" Chakotay asked, as if he really didn't know why Jean-Luc had gone in search of him.

"Kathryn's marriage to you."

Chakotay stared at the man for a moment. "You really want this to happen, don't you?" Jean-Luc slowly nodded. "Why?"

Jean-Luc took a long sip of his ale before placing his stein down. "When Beverly died, I knew that I would have done anything if I could have had even one more day with my wife. I loved Beverly so." He looked away from Chakotay's intense gaze, to stare at the sunset. For a while, he was quiet. And then he spoke, "If the only way I could have loved Beverly and have her in my life, was to have shared her, then I would have gladly accepted those terms." He cleared his throat.

Chakotay silently agreed and understood the emotions behind Jean-Luc's words.

"Chakotay, I was very close to Beverly's husband Jack. And Jack was close to me as well. He wasn't just an officer under my command, he was a valued friend as well. There was a time when Jack somewhat hinted that he was willing to share his wife with me, for he had figured out how deeply I loved his wife though I never did anything untoward toward Beverly. At the time of the suggestion, I was appalled, though now I deeply regret that I did not pursue the matter, for it would have meant that many more years with Beverly sharing my life." He turned toward Chakotay. "I care for Kathryn too much to deny her anything – even you."

"But, how would it work? I mean, you can't really want your wife to have sex with another man."

"If it makes her happy then I will accept it. Kathryn would have to be in control. She would decide whose bed and when. And I don't really want to lose Kathryn myself, either. I like having her around. Being with her brought my heart and soul back from the ashes of my great despair. I need and want to keep that aspect of my relationship with Kathryn in my life."

"But, what if Kathryn…"

Jean-Luc interrupted Chakotay. "Prefers your bed over mine? How do I not resent it?" Jean-Luc simply asked.

"Something like that," Chakotay admitted.

"Well, after my daughter is born, and you become married, I would imagine that there would be a honeymoon period between you and Kathryn. For several months at least, I would think," Jean-Luc admitted. "She is a passionate woman," he just had to add, "but even if her visits to my bed become infrequent or not at all, the important thing would be that Kathryn is still in my life. Before she joined with me, I was very lonely. And when it comes to friendship, Kathryn and I are the best of friends in all ways that really matter. For me, sex is not the most important part of my marriage to Kathryn. Don't misunderstand me. The sex aspect is a very good, enjoyable part of my marriage, but it is not an absolutely essential part. My marriage to Kathryn can exist without it. The only thing that makes me desire to keep Kathryn Janeway as my wife is because of my relationship with her." Jean-Luc lifted the stein to his lips for a moment, then continued speaking. "The question is though, how would you react when and if Kathryn chooses my bed now and then?" he just had to ask.

Chakotay slowly nodded. "Valid point. I would have to think about it, that is for sure." He drank from his stein. "The thing is, when I was her First Officer, I knew that Kathryn would never permit an intimate relationship between us, on board Voyager. And I agreed with her decision. I didn't like that fact, but it was something I could live with as long as I could be in Kathryn's life in some way above and beyond my duty – even if it was as nothing more than as an unwilling platonic friend."

"But matters are different now." Jean-Luc chuckled, for he now deduced that Chakotay was going to agree to their absurd three-way marriage. Then he pointed out one of the advantages of such a marriage. "And as an added incentive, just think about the expression on Alynna Nechayev's face when she learns about the change in our relationship."

Chakotay laughed out loud. "I most certainly would want to be there for that," Chakotay just had to agree. His lack of fondness for Admiral Nechayev went far back in time to his cadet days.

"The Admiral's Ball is coming up in a few months. We could raise a lot of eyebrows there, if you were so inclined," Jean-Luc slyly suggested.

"Sounds like my marrying Kathryn could be a very fascinating experience, as well," Chakotay mulled. "And I would be marrying Kathryn, and not you too?" as he suddenly considered a possibility and just had to bring up.

"Right now, your marriage to Kathryn would be more than enough."

Chakotay eyed Jean-Luc. "No three-ways?"

Picard snorted. "No, not yet. And then, if ever, it would be at the lady's instigation. I meant what I said earlier about such a possibility."

"That's acceptable for now," Chakotay politely agreed. He would have to get to know Jean-Luc Picard a lot better if anything like sharing a bed with the woman he loved and this man at the same time, was ever to come to pass. "I'll tell Kathryn that I will accept her proposal, tomorrow."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Did I ever tell you how much I love this low grav holodeck unit?" Kathryn Janeway asked of her husband, as she comfortably rolled over with little effort, on her side of their immense marital bed.

Jean-Luc almost floated over to her, since the gravity was currently set at twenty percent, at the moment. "Only every night," Jean-Luc answered his wife.

Kathryn would have nudged him except she was hovering in a blissful place at the moment. Jean-Luc's massage of her back had been wonderful, as he eased the pain of so many strained muscles with his magic fingers. And then their loving afterward, had been pretty memorable as well, especially since Kathryn had been feeling like a pregnant whale for the past few weeks. The fact that her husband had been able to lead her to pleasure, given her condition, was quite remarkable. And that this gravity unit was able to let her provide him comfort as well, with minimal stress on her part.

He reached over and tapped a panel on the upper part of the headboard.

"Do you really have to, Jean-Luc?" Kathryn sighed. "I do so like the twenty-percent setting."

"I like it as well, especially for what it permits us to do together. However, both Katherine Pulaski and Doc Joseph insist that you cannot safely sleep at less than fifty-percent," Jean-Luc patiently reminded his wife. He had heard this argument, before.

Kathryn suddenly braced herself on her elbows, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I am going to take a shower," she announced, casting a knowing glance over at her still reclining naked husband. "Care to wash my back?"

"It will have to be a quick one," he regretfully remarked as he stood, and then went around the bed to help his nude wife get to her feet. "I've got a meeting to review certain disciplinary actions against some problem cadets at 0730 hours in the morning. Somehow when I must punish the cadet offenders, I seem to end up being punished myself."

"I will make sure that our shower is a quick one," Kathryn promised.

And it was a 'quick' one, in more ways than one.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Jean-Luc!" a voice boomed from the doorway to Picard's inner sanctum at his Academy office.

Jean-Luc looked up from the padd that he was reading. "Admiral. I was unaware that we had an appointment." He stood and motioned toward the comfortable armchair that was positioned at an angle near the front of his desk.

"We didn't. I just decided to drop in and have a chat," Winston Holt Wiley announced as he settled into the chair. "And I will have some of the good stuff," the head of Starfleet mentioned as he glanced around the office noting that nothing had really changed since his last visit here.

Stifling his instinctive response that he was still on duty, Jean-Luc Picard went over to the birch hand-carved cabinet where he kept his bottles of the non-synthehol 'good' stuff. "Bourbon or brandy?" he politely asked the Fleet Admiral.

"Got any whiskey?" the man countered.

Jean-Luc immediately decided that it was going to be one of 'those' kind of chats, so he pulled out two lowball glasses from the cabinet, and went back to his desk. He opened the lower drawer to his desk and removed a bottle of the green stuff, and poured a double shot into one glass, and one short shot into the other. Since he was with the head of Starfleet, Jean-Luc reasoned that just a little bit of whiskey for himself was permissible.

"Your whiskey, Admiral," Jean-Luc announced as he presented the glass to his commander and friend.

Winston Holt Wiley appreciated the whiskey, before he placed the glass back down at stared at his Superintendent of the Academy. "I'm bringing the Enterprise back to Earth," he announced.

"Wesley mentioned that to me when I talked with him two days ago," Jean-Luc carefully responded.

"Good. Admiral Woodrow Nakamura is temporarily taking over while you are on paternity leave, I believe?" Wiley casually mentioned.

"Yes, Holt. Woody will take charge on Monday. I'm just trying to finish up everything that needs to be done before he takes over," Jean-Luc informed his boss.

"I may have to extend the length of Woody's temporary command," Winston announced.

"Because?"

"Something big is happening. And of course, Lwaxana is going to try to claim all the credit for herself."

Jean-Luc sat there, waiting for Holt to explain his words. "And that is?" he finally asked after a few minutes had passed.

"Lwaxana negotiated with Grand Nagus Zek. She got the Federation the plans for a working Transwarp Drive powered by solid trilithium. Got the Grand Nagus Zek's own private yacht as a working engine model for us, too." The Fleet Admiral eyed Jean-Luc. "And I personally want you to inform you that the Enterprise's entire mission, was top secret, by my command. No one in your former command was allowed to discuss their mission, including the transwarp drive, with you."

Jean-Luc was somewhat startled by Winston Holt Wiley's statement. He would contemplate the reasons behind such an announcement, later. "I see. Wesley and Commander LaForge believe it to be a functioning transwarp drive?"

"Yes. That's why the Enterprise is returning. Leah Brahms, once she figures the damn thing out, she is going to see if the transwarp drive can be used to convert the warp drives on the galaxy class ships. If not, then we will try to use it on the smaller ships or eventually new ships." Holt finished off his whiskey and then shoved the glass in Jean-Luc's direction for some more. Jean-Luc obliged. "This transwarp drive is a game changer for Starfleet and the Federation."

"That I do comprehend." Jean-Luc finally took a mouthful of his own whiskey. "What I don't understand is how I can help."

"Well, amongst other reasons, there is the possibility that the Romulans also have the transwarp drive too."

Jean-Luc choked and then coughed a little. This news went down the wrong way.

"Though the Ferengi say that they didn't, not that I believe or trust them in the slightest, the Grand Nagus Zek could have sold the schematics of the transwarp drive to other powers too, which could be a serious problem."

"On that, I most definitely do agree," Jean-Luc stated.

"The bigger problem though, is a source of fuel. Apparently, in the Alpha Quadrant, the only known source for mining solid trilithium is a planet in the Romulan Empire."

Jean-Luc began to intuit where Holt was going. "How do I fit in to all of this?"

"Well, someone's going to have to negotiate with the Romulans if the rumors about the source of the fuel is the truth. And you're it." Winston Holt Wiley chuckled as he finished off his second double shot of whiskey, thunking the empty lowball back onto the desk top. "Fortunately, for you, it is going to take a few months before any of this actually happens. So, enjoy your paternity leave, Jean-Luc. Give my best to Kathryn. I will try to come and visit before the baby is born." With that the head of Starfleet struggled to his feet, but he left the Superintendent's office with his typical energetic strides hiding any sign of his advanced age.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Hello, lover," was Lwaxana's way of greeting her husband.

Displaying a smile that actually reached his eyes, Winston Holt Wiley gazed at the image on the viewscreen. His beloved was wearing a diaphanous, copper colored gown with a shawl collar that beautifully highlighted his wife's assets. And around her neck was a sparkling diamond necklace that he had not recalled seeing before. Of course, Lwaxana always seemed to have a lot of jewelry that he did not know about. "Hello, my dear heart," was Winnie's response. "How's your return trip going?"

"Borrr-ring," was the lady's response. "I am delighted to be out of Ferengi territory, but that is about it. There's nothing left for me to do and improve around here, except teach Will Riker how to be a proper, decent father. And he's been avoiding my parenting lessons at every chance. It's always ships' business with him. The Ptach."

"I knew he was a smart man when I picked him for captain," Winston muttered to himself as he rewrote history yet one more time.

Lwaxana suggestively smiled as she remembered certain times with her husband. "You have no idea how much I miss you at times like this."

"Oh, I do know how much I miss you, Loxie," Winston added. "This has been a very long, lonely couple of months without you."

Lwaxana arched an eyebrow. She knew her husband too well. "So, you've been terrorizing your underlings, instead?"

"That's what they are there for," he enlightened.

"I imagine that your staff will be glad to see me to when I arrive home."

"I am sure, Lwaxana, that everyone will be overjoyed to see you when you come home."

"So true," she readily agreed. And then she focused her attention on her husband, inspecting him for a moment, and not quite liking the worry that she discerned that was upon his visage. "So, why did you really call me, Winnie?" Her voice was soft; concerned.

Winston winced. Even though she was quite a few AU's away, Lwaxana was still too perceptive a Betazed. "Jean-Luc."

She slowly nodded her head in agreement. Her husband felt guilt about the way he was handling Jean-Luc's dilemma. Thousands of lightyears away from her husband was still not too far away for her to notice his distress. "Winnie, you're going to have to tell him." Winston reluctantly nodded in agreement. "Want me to do it?"

For a moment, he actually considered that solution. "No. I gave the order for keeping Jean-Luc out of the loop, beloved. So, it is my responsibility to tell him about what might have happened to Beverly."

"Then we should tell him together. You will say what needs to be said to Jean-Luc. But I will be there to help him accept and understand it all."

"I don't want to tell him yet, Loxie. Kathryn is scheduled to have her fetal transport next week. I want Jean-Luc and Kathryn to have blissful baby time with their daughter together for at least a few weeks before I destroy his world with the news about Beverly's probably fate."

"Give Kathryn and Jean-Luc a few months more, Lover. Whether you tell Jean-Luc when we arrive at UP or wait and see if the transwarp drive will work on galaxy class ships, Jean-Luc's devastation will be the same. Give him a few more months of familial happiness, my dear."

"You're right, of course," her husband agreed. He sighed accepting the wisdom of her decision. When it came to dealing with people, Lwaxana was almost always right. Then he billed and cooed with his wife for a few minutes longer before he ended the transmission.

TBC


	53. Baby Bouncing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter dealing with babies, names, and potential godfathers. Oh, and marriage proposals and getting ready for what is to come.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 53:

Baby Bouncing

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Oh, my sweet one, my darling one, aren't you precious?" she cooed as she bounced Kolopak lightly up and down on her stomach. Her daughter seemed to react to this action with a corresponding kick to her womb wall, every time Kathryn rested Kol on top of her stomach.

Kathryn turned her head, and smiled over at Chakotay. "Oh, he is so wonderful, Chakotay. How I wish I could have visited him in the hospital but my bodyguards wouldn't let me."

Chakotay wisely did not comment about the Maquis crew who were devotedly keeping Kathryn Janeway safe. If they were not letting his former captain leave the safety of Picard House other than for doctor appointments, they must have had very good reasons to do so.

"Gretchen came every day," Chakotay countered. "I really appreciated her consideration. Your mother told me about every little thing that he did every day, including how he was improving. And she even set up a live baby cam link for me." Chakotay cautiously stood, and hesitantly walked over to where Kathryn was seated in an armchair on the patio. Her scarlet tunic was splayed over the bright lime green and aquamarine patterned padding. He carefully sat down on the matching, heavily padded lounge chair that was right next to hers, slowly stretching his legs out as muscles protested from being overused.

"My mother does have a few PhD's behind her name," Kathryn lightly remarked as she forced herself not to jump up and assist Chakotay. "Though my mother does not like technology, she was smart enough to ask B'Elanna to set up the live stream for you since my mother's affinity and expertise toward certain types of technology ranks right up there with my replicator culinary skills.

Chakotay laughed at this, since he found it difficult to imagine Gretchen Janeway being incompetent about anything.

He held out his arms, and Kathryn obliged by placing Kol in them. Long minutes passed as Kathryn watched Chakotay hold his son in his arms in what seemed to be a dream-like state for he had closed his eyes – or he was napping. For a while, she had thought that she would never see this miracle come to pass.

"Thank you, Kathryn," Chakotay finally whispered, as he gazed down at his son, in awe of the truth of his dream.

Kathryn brushed away a few tears as she silently acknowledged to herself that Kol should have been her baby, and not Annika's child. But they both had been so foolish. She forced herself to stifle her emotions.

"Thank me for what?" she lightly teased, forcing herself to act as normal as a woman soon to give birth could be.

Chakotay shifted his gaze upward to the woman he loved. He considered her to be more beautiful than ever. Wisps of sun-kissed hair floated about her face as a gentle breeze kept trying to disrupt the confines of her ponytail. He was finally free to gaze upon Kathryn whenever he wished to do so. He had been granted permission – and a second chance.

Then he realized that he had not answered her question. "Kathryn, for helping me with my recovery. Opening up your heart and home to me and to Kol. Thank you for your astonishing mother when she declared herself to be Kol's grandmother from the very first moment that she met my son. For Phoebe declaring herself to be Kol's aunt which means that my son will forever have at least one person about his own emotional age with which to play." He smiled at Kathryn, using to his advantage, his dimples. "My son has a family, now – a loving one."

"Always."

Chakotay flashed his dimples again.

"You obviously want something," Kathryn joked, even as she viscerally felt the impact of those dimples.

"If you still want me to be your husband, then yes, I do want to be your husband, Kathryn Janeway, in every way." He leaned forward, reaching for her hand, moving carefully in order to not disturb a sleeping baby. But the baby did not stop him from speaking. "Oh Kathryn, I have fantasized about being your husband. And I have dreamed about having you as my wife, my friend and my lover. For too many long years it was an impossible dream." He pressed a soft kiss against the palm of her hand. "And now, it is not." These words were casually said, but the intensity of his gaze as he raised his head to look at her, revealed the truth of his soul. He would forever be her angry warrior…

Kathryn froze. Chakotay's acceptance was actually unexpected. She had thought that he would have taken more time to think it over.

"You will?" she choked out as the impact of his words slammed into her psyche. And what it would mean to her heart.

"Yes, my love. I will be whatever kind of husband you want or need." The smile that he bestowed upon her was beautiful. "Jean-Luc and I talked things over last night, and worked some of the details out," Chakotay innocently mentioned.

Kathryn's eyes narrowed. "Jean-Luc knew about your willingness to marry me last night?"

"Yes. We had an interesting chat about things." His smile broadened. "In a way, I am almost as excited about the impending arrival of your daughter as Jean-Luc is."

"And he didn't tell me," she whispered to herself.

Chakotay failed to understand why Kathryn was perturbed.

"Is something wrong?"

She stood and came over to carefully hug him before she answered him. "No, my love, you did nothing wrong." She stilled. "My love. That's the very first time I have ever said that out loud to you." She laughed, as the impact of her words hit her heart. She giddily declared, "I can call you my love now, whenever I wish." And then she grinned down at him, her heart filling with happiness.

Carefully he pulled her down onto his lap, moving Kol aside onto his broad shoulder as he found a way to have his love and his son in his arms at the same time. For most of his life, he had never expected to hold his family in his arms. He was humbled by the reality as well as overjoyed.

And then they kissed. It was not an epic kiss. Each knew that those kinds of kisses were yet to come. Still, it was their first real kiss. And it was significant.

After a moment, Kathryn struggled to be free.

"So, we're officially engaged?" Chakotay asked trying to disguise his concern over Kathryn's sudden shift in mood."

"Affirmative," she laughed. "In a few weeks, we're going to be married," she readily agreed.

"After you give birth, we will have to make some plans."

"Chakotay, I think I can guarantee that between my Mother and Mildred, everything that could be planned, has been done. I think that just about all that is left to be done is for us to decide which layer of the wedding cake should have the praline pecan pie filling."

"What?" Chakotay was somewhat taken back by this pronouncement.

"I know that Jean-Luc did not tell Mildred about our three-way marriage plans, but somehow the lady knew, anyway. And of course, Mildred and Mother are cohorts in just about everything now when it comes to my life, Jean-Luc's life and your life. I am sure that they have taken every contingency into account. We will have little to do but accept whatever it is that they have planned for us." She shifted a little on his lap as she decided that she was not too uncomfortable there.

"I want to make my own decisions, Kathryn," Chakotay warned.

"I used to do that myself, once upon a time. But then I got pregnant." Kathryn smiled up at him. "Trust me, Chakotay, they have doubtless anticipated everything you might have wanted. I am sure that they have probably already arranged for Sekaya and her family to come from Dorvan to Earth in time for the wedding, too." Kathryn sighed. "There have been rumors that at one point, Mildred Krebs had been the head of Section 31. At first, I thought that people were joking about this. But then I sort of remembered some conversations that my Father had when I was a kid, hiding under his antique desk. I am sure that I heard the name 'Mildred' mentioned. Once you get to know the lady well, you will understand that even if she wasn't in command, Mildred most definitely is capable of being the head of Section 31." She snuggled against him, idly stroking a finger against the softness of Kol's cheek. "Jean-Luc has joked that Mildred is actually the power behind the throne when it comes to Admiral Wiley. I've come to realize that the Fleet Admiral consults with her a bit, so there is probably some truth to it."

Chakotay blinked. What had he gotten himself in to?

"You think that is possible?"

"Possible, yes. Certainly, Admiral Wiley listens to what Mrs. Krebs says."

Chakotay smiled as Kathryn shifted again, wiggling a bit in order to find a spot that wouldn't place any weight on Chakotay's recuperating injuries. "This position isn't working, is it?" He reluctantly lowered his arms from around Kathryn's shoulders.

She sighed in disappointment. "I think we should try this again, after my daughter makes her presence known to the world." She patted her tummy before she carefully stood, trying not to disturb the sleeping baby that Chakotay was still holding in his arms as well. Then she leaned over and lightly kissed Kol's forehead. With that, she segued into saying, "I still haven't heard from Annika, even though I asked Icheb to tell Annika that I wished to speak with her.

"We will deal with Annika when the time comes, Kathryn. The only reason that she will have any contact with us, is when she wishes to see the baby."

"I would like to repair my relationship with her. I don't want to lose her."

"You were friends before I came along," Chakotay admitted, speaking somewhat with regrets.

"In many ways, she was my protegee and my friend. I miss that. And I am hoping, that in time, she will forgive us enough so that she will long for the friendship that we once shared as well. Annika is part of the Voyager family, and if our relationship truly becomes contentious, it will upset the family."

"Besides, in some ways, she was too naïve to realize what she was doing." Kathryn didn't say a word over her fiancée's statement. "And yes, I should have known what I was doing. But obviously, I was not thinking."

Kathryn leaned over and kissed the top of Chakotay's head. "Neither was I." She bent around him some more in order to lightly kiss his lips. "However, I need to take a nap at this moment. And with your permission, when the Enterprise docks, I would like to arrange an appointment for couples counseling with Commander Deanna Troi-Riker, if she is available. For us, of course, because we do have a few matters that I think that we should discuss. And maybe, later on, together with Jean-Luc as well. Regardless of how gracious Jean-Luc seems to be, I am sure that there are some issues that need to be settled."

"On that, you are probably right." For Chakotay had sensed some disquiet in Jean-Luc's heart. "We all have issues that we should try to resolve before we get married."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"So, the rumors are true," Mike Ayala softly spoke out loud as he sat down next to B'Elanna Torres who was working on a blown circuit in a console in the security office of Picard House.

"What?"

He jerked his head toward a security screen that displayed Admiral Janeway sitting on Captain Chakotay's lap by the pool.

'Oh, that. Yes." B'Elanna pushed a few more buttons before adding, "The only thing that surprises me about it is that Kathryn actually is doing the logical thing when it comes to Chakotay. Finally."

"Huh?"

"During all the time that we spent on Voyager can you ever recall Captain Janeway doing the rational thing in respect to her personal relationship with Chakotay? Watching them back then, was akin to being in the worst kind of Klingon soap opera holoprogram ever written, minus the violence of course – most of the time. And without hope of a happy ending." She waved her hand toward the security screen. "Well, now we have one, thank the gods."

"I'm just happy for them," Mike countered. The he eyed B'Elanna with just a touch of incredulity. "And you and Tom knew about the admirals and Chakotay, and Tom didn't tell a single soul?" That Mike really found hard to believe.

"I am surprised and somewhat shocked that Tom held his tongue, too," B'Elanna agreed as she pushed herself away from the console. "I guess Tom didn't have a betting pool for a three-way marriage on his bookmaking list. Either that or Admiral Picard threatened him with a fate worse than death. And that threat was actually so effective that it worked on my husband." She brushed back a strand of hair off of her face. "I most definitely will have to discover what the blackmail threat was. Tom has been taking the upper hand too often lately. I need more leverage."

Mike Ayala wisely did not make a remark about the state of the Torres-Paris marriage. Though part of him did consider giving Tom a warning about B'Elanna's quest. "If there is one thing that I have learned about working at Picard House, is that one should never underestimate Admiral Jean-Luc Picard."

She stood and stretched. "I've finished the minor upgrades." She looked around the control room searching for any of the spying bugs and did not notice anything flying. Still, she knew that the odds were pretty good that she was being monitored. "And I cannot think of anything else to do around here. If this system still keeps on squeaking, tell Malcolm." B'Elanna brushed some dust off of her duty uniform. "I've got to get back to the UP. Tom was taking Miral for a ride in the Alpha Flyer, and I want to make sure that both of my babies made it back in one piece."

Ayala chuckled. "Boys and their toys…"

"Look who's talking," B'Elanna teased as she gathered up her tools and left the room.

Ayala's expression darkened as he watched B'Elanna leave. He knew that she was aware that the level of spying had increased dramatically over the past few days. His gut was telling him that whatever was happening, would be happening very soon. And he knew that B'Elanna sensed it as well.

And it looked as if the secret defense program upgrades that B'Elanna had just installed were safely in place, undetected. For B'Elanna had designed a system where these new dormant programs were not actually connected to the mainframe. They were sleeping, so to speak. And these defense programs would only be activated and then connected, when an alarm was sounded on a certain frequency inside the compound. Only then would they defend. And by the time their spy noticed these programs, Mike Ayala sincerely hoped that it would be too late for the enemy mastermind to do anything about it.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Continua?" Jean-Luc glared at his demi-god nemesis. "Q, I am not naming my daughter after the Continuum!"

"Oh, hold your horsies, Jeannie-Boy. I was just making a helpful suggestion. I didn't really think that you'd take my recommendation seriously," he glowered, floating about the library on his favorite small, Bokhara flying Oriental rug. He barely missed a sculpture or two as he swished by Jean-Luc's desk.

Jean-Lu audibly sighed. "Q, if you wish to have a conversation with me, please come down here. And put that rug away. The last thing I need is for Anna and Billy Bob to discover your carpet and then want to go flying on it."

"Jean-Luc, the twins already know how to use my flying carpets." He saw the steam building in Jean-Luc's expression and quickly added, "And I made sure that both of the twins know how to use the carpets properly – and safely."

"My children have been flying the carpets for a while?" Jean-Luc quietly asked, his calmness belying the wrath and fear that he was trying to control. "I thought that you were going to discuss doing such things with Anna and Billy Bob, with me before showing them to my children."

Q actually had an expression of contriteness on his face as he explained, "I sort of forgot. Anyway, we usually flew the rugs at LaBarre. Rene and Marie enjoyed them too. And most of the time it was in the barn, where there was plenty of hay to fall upon." He hoped that his words were calming Jean-Luc down.

"Would anyone care to explain what is going on here?" an over-enunciated, polite voice asked from the library doorway.

For once, Q was glad to be interrupted as he watched his favorite female human waddle toward them, dressed in a patterned plum colored caftan.

"You both were yelling so loudly that you woke me up. And I was asleep in my bedroom!" Kathryn Janeway tartly remarked. Then her stern expression softened, and she crossed over to Q who had just landed his burgundy colored carpet. "Hello, Q. It's been a while since we've seen you." And then she reached up to kiss his cheek and pat his chest. She noticed that he was wearing a formal Starfleet uniform of his own design, trying to outdo one of Winston Holt Wiley's dress uniforms today, for this white uniform was covered with gold tassels that quivered with every movement.

"I apologize for disturbing you, my dear," Jean-Luc quickly spoke with regret. "Q was trying to persuade me to pick one of the names that he prefers for our daughter."

Kathryn mentally groaned. Considering that she was going to have her baby on Monday, she knew that she and Jean-Luc should have already had a baby naming discussion. But somehow, they had not really seemed to get around to it.

"I've come up with some perfectly lovely names," Q explained.

"Continua?" Jean-Luc sarcastically mentioned.

"It never hurts to try to placate the Continuum," Q protested.

Kathryn shook her head. Then her curiosity got the better of her. "Do I really want to know what you did to the Continuum that you think that we have to placate them?"

Q sighed. "Your beautiful, bouncing baby girl, Kathryn, is unfortunately, not a Q."

If Kathryn had not just awakened from a nap, she would have been alert enough to have asked Q just exactly what her daughter was.

Jean-Luc breathed a deep sigh of relief. Maybe this time, he would have a child who did not begin life by becoming the definition of trouble.

"And you wished to name her Continua, because?" Kathryn just had to ask.

"Well, when Billy Bob and Anna visit the Continuum, and they might wish to bring their sister along, a name that the Continuum might find pleasing would certainly help in getting your daughter admitted into visiting the Continuum." Q hoped that Kathryn would not pick apart his explanation.

"Considering that the Continuum is a dilapidated station in the middle of nowhere, I am sure that the twins will wish to visit there and drag along their baby sister."

Her sarcasm was thick enough for even Q to notice.

Kathryn nodded, even as she waddled over to the fireplace and sat down on a big, Queen Anne style armchair. Then she looked over at her husband. "Did any of the names that Q suggest sound acceptable?"

Q jumped in before Jean-Luc could criticize. "I'd suggested Quintina."

"No," was Kathryn's instantaneous response.

"Qira," was Q's next suggestion.

Kathryn blinked. "That's not too awful." She waved her hand. "Continue."

"Qiarra?" Q hopefully mentioned.

"No."

"Quinoa?"

Kathryn chuckled at this one as she repeated herself. "No."

"Quentennia?" Q lowly murmured, trying to make this name sound melodious.

Kathryn laughed out loud, before stating, "No."

Q pouted.

And she knew it. "Surely," Kathryn cajoled, "you must have a few more names to amuse me?"

"Quinan?" He pronounced this name so that it rhymed with Jean-Luc's former barkeep.

Jean-Luc snorted as he almost dropped his mug of tea on his desk. And then a thought occurred to the man.

"Guinan?" Jean-Luc hinted to his bride. "Gretchen Guinan?"

Q hastily spoke up, knowing that if Jean-Luc named his daughter after Guinan, there could come a time in the near future, when he might come to hate that name. "No. Nonononono, no!" His voice got louder with each emphatic 'no'. The sound of his displeasure over this possible baby name bounced off of the paneled oak walls. "I cannot be a godfather to a baby bearing that name!" he loudly declared not realizing that he had just give Kathryn and Jean-Luc the perfect reason to name their daughter after a barkeep.

"I thought that you and Guinan had become friends," Jean-Luc suspiciously asked Q.

Q realized that he had over-reacted. "We've become friendlier," Q admitted, "but friends?" He warily eyed Jean-Luc. "You do realize that I was almost married to Guinan a couple of hundred years ago. And that the lady does tend to have an Rigellian elephantine memory when it comes to holding a grudge."

"Fascinating," Kathryn commented. "I did not know that fact." She pleasantly smiled at her Continuum friend. "And what did you do to cause Guinan to break off the engagement? Did you forget to mention Mrs. Q?"

"Something like that," Q mumbled, as he tried not to remember all of the dramatic, scary details of his former intimate relationship with Guinan and the fury of their break up.

"Odd that Guinan never mentioned your near-marriage to me," Jean-Luc mused, as he began to relax into his desk armchair. Though, privately, he did question Guinan's taste in potential husbands. And then he just had to add with a tinge of snarkiness, "I wonder if Guinan forgot about it."

Q sent Jean-Luc an intimidating glare, which of course had little effect on Jean-Luc. Then he waved his fingers in Kathryn's direction, before snapping them, and then disappeared, carpet and all.

Kathryn laughed as she tried to push herself out of the too-comfy armchair.

Jean-Luc quickly came to her aid. "I wonder what that was all about," he pondered, as he lifted his wife to her feet.

"Something tells me that Q and Guinan have some unfinished business," Kathryn observed. "Next time Guinan is in town, I will just have to indulge in my curiosity and ask her." She slyly glanced at her husband. "Somehow, I don't think that you have the brass to question her yourself about one of her former lovers." For Kathryn now suspected that Guinan was one of Jean-Luc's old lovers based on his reaction upon discovering that Q had been Guinan's lover.

Jean-Luc was about to protest this statement, but then thought better of it. So he kissed his wife instead.

On the other side of the library door, Gretchen grinned as she muttered to herself, "Gretchen Guinan Janeway Picard. Not a bad moniker. And then we can call my granddaughter by the nickname of 'Gigi'…"

TBC


	54. This and That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chefs, baby names and playing with puppies.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 54:

This and That

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Ludvig, come in," Jean-Luc Picard cordially stated as he stood to greet his chef and friend with outstretched hand. For Ludvig had come a-tappin' on the oak door to his home office. Though officially Jean-Luc was now on paternity leave, there were still a few reports that he wanted to finish before Woody Nakamura took over on Monday, so he was working in his office. In the meantime, Murphy Michaels was in charge of the Academy for the mid-term break weekend.

Ludvig settled in the chair by the admiral's desk and then could not help himself. He glanced about, openly curious about this private office belonging to Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. He took note of all the pottery shards, several bronze censers, and pieces of cuneiform tablets scattered about the bleached oak wall shelving, midst numerous standing padd files, books and holopictures of the twins and Kathryn Janeway. The antique figural clock of the goddess Asteria which was on a shelf close to the desk, chimed eight bells. It was a quiet, unobtrusive dinging that nevertheless reassured the soul that all was well.

Ludvig had never been inside of Jean-Luc Picard's office before. Usually, when he needed to actually talk to Admiral Picard, he met with the man in the family breakfast room by the small kitchen, or on the breakfast terrace.

"Would you care for anything?"

Ludvig blinked and then realized that the admiral was actually offering to serve him something. This was now a momentous occasion. "Tea, please."

"Earl Grey?" Jean-Luc just had to ask.

"I have become accustomed to it," Ludvig brightly answered back, with a chuckle. "Which reminds me, I ran across a triple bergamot tea that you might like to experience."

"Is it black and strong?"

"Of course, Jean-Luc."

"Then may I have it for breakfast in the morning?" the admiral suggested.

Ludvig nodded.

Jean-Luc got the two hot mugs from his replicator and when they both were settled and sipping tea, he got around to inquiring, "And what can I do for you, Ludvig?"

"You know that my wife has accepted her posting on board the Enterprise?"

"Yes, I have been so informed by Captain Riker."

"Well, Captain Riker also asked that I consider joining my wife Bronislawa on board ship as well. It seems that Captain Riker's personal chef does not know how to do a proper barbecue." Ludvig sniffed. "I gather that barbecues have become the diplomatic banquet of choice on Captain Riker's ship." Ludvig permitted himself a slight smile in anticipation of the battle over the barbeque sauces yet to come. "If I accept, that personal chef will be reassigned, even if my acceptance is not permanent."

"Yes, my former Number One did have the audacity to tell me that he was going to try to steal you away from me for at least one tour of duty because of your secret sauces," Jean-Luc politely replied.

"Well, Jean-Luc, I have decided to accept Captain Riker's offer for at least one tour of duty," Ludvig said rather quickly. And then he braced himself for Jean-Luc's displeasure.

Jean-Luc surprised the chef. "I suspected as much. For I could not imagine that any mother as loving as Bronislawa would willingly leave behind her husband and daughter during a tour of duty, when it was not absolutely necessary for Brawny to do so." Jean-Luc didn't even notice that he had used the lady's not quite respectable cadet nickname. "And this is a great opportunity for your wife," Jean-Luc just had to add. "For Commander LaForge has requested her assignment to his engineering department several times."

"For it is the Enterprise," Ludvig cheerfully agreed. "We'll be joining the crew when the ship docks at UP for what I have been told are engine upgrades. I will be able to attend to restocking the ship's food stores, for replicators cannot simply create some foodstuff properly." To himself he added, "Or give Captain Riker a clue as to what I put in my sauces."

"You still will have a couple of weeks here then, before the Enterprise arrives. Good. You'll be around after Kathryn gives birth. Not that my wife will admit it, but she is a bit nervous about becoming a mother. And more than once Kathryn has referred to your wife as an oasis of sanity in a sea of bedlam, especially when Mildred, Ryllis and Gretchen are having one of their many 'discussions'."

"My wife has appreciated Admiral Kathryn's friendship," Ludvig readily agreed, touched by knowledge of Admiral Kathryn's appreciation.

Jean-Luc placed his mug on top of his desk. "You will be missed, Ludvig."

"But not for long," Ludvig quickly suggested. "For I have found you a replacement chef. My cousin Nyqvist who is the chief chef for Admiral Wiley has a brother, Ral Nyqvist, who is willing to come here to Picard House."

"Oh?"

"Ral has worked as an additional chef for some of Ambassadress Troi's banquets, and amazingly, the lady did not complain. But once I mentioned to Ral that I was temporarily leaving, he quickly decided that he wouldn't mind working here. My cousin may actually be a better chef than I am, in spite of his youth. What that young man can do with pastry is simply magical."

"I see," Jean-Luc replied as he slowly nodded his head considering Ludvig's suggestion. "Mr. Nyqvist will have to be thoroughly vetted by security."

"Commander Reynolds has already done so," Ludvig reassured the admiral.

"Oh?" Jean-Luc was pleased that Ludvig was so efficient. "Good."

"Well, I know that you will wish to interview Ral, so, anticipating your permission, I tended to all of the details. I have asked Ral to come tomorrow to make lunch and dinner for you, Admiral Kathryn and for the twins. Those two can be somewhat finnicky on occasion and if Ral can please them, then pleasing Mrs. Krebs should be easy."

"Too true," Jean-Luc agreed as he remembered certain battles over oatmeal which included Mrs. Krebs as well as the twins. "That is acceptable."

"And if you agree to give Ral a trial run, I will have him start working with me on Monday, on all the meals for the family as well as the staff. If Ral can pass Gretchen's exacting standards, then I am sure that he will pass your standards as well."

"Of course." Jean-Luc thought over Ludvig's words for a moment. "Gretchen wants a say in this matter?"

"It might be more peaceful around here if she is not denied, Jean-Luc. And there is Phoebe coming in as well, for the birth."

Jean-Luc considered the wisdom of the chef's words. "Too true, Ludvig. Too true." He smiled at his friend. "I really meant it when I said that you would be missed, my friend. Your extraordinary generosity especially toward my wife… Both of them…" Jean-Luc looked away for a moment, before adding, "And making all that Kladdkaka cake for Beverly, was greatly appreciated. You are not just a great chef. You've been a good friend, too."

Ludvig blushed. "Well, it is not as if I will be gone forever, Jean-Luc, for I will come back if you wish it."

"You will always be welcome here, Ludvig." Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "And your cousin Ral, won't mind losing his position if you do come back?"

"Jean-Luc, the Nyqvist family owns eleven major Continental restaurants on Earth alone. Ral will never be out of a job as a chef, unless he wishes to be."

"In that case, I am looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. And to tasting his efforts. Thank you for being so considerate, Ludvig." He smiled as he reassuringly added, "And I am sure that you and Brawny are doing the right thing, too."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Gretchen Guinan?" Kathryn innocently inquired as she permitted her husband to massage her feet, reclining on the chaise lounge in the library. "Why haven't we discussed baby names before this?" she too-innocently asked.

"Well, when I first brought up the subject of names for our daughter, you suggested that we should think about it. After a while, I thought that you would bring up the topic when the time was right for you."

"Nice dodge, Jean-Luc," Kathryn teased. "But we do have a problem."

"What?"

"My Mother was apparently walking by the library and 'accidentally' overheard you mentioning Guinan's name in connection to hers. And so, she made sure to mention it to me."

Jean-Luc paused in his massaging shifting the hem of her turquoise robe a bit higher up so that he could work on her ankles. "Did she object?"

"Oh, no. Quite the contrary. She thinks that having a granddaughter named Gigi is absolutely the perfect choice."

"Gigi?" a somewhat taken aback Jean-Luc gulped.

"You heard me." She motioned toward her feet so that Jean-Luc could continue to massage them.

He complied. He had to think about this for a while. For a daughter nicknamed 'Gigi' really wasn't that bad an appellation choice. "Hmmm… Anna, Billy Bob and Gigi," he mused out loud.

Kathryn could tell that the idea was growing on him. "I like it, too."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Lwaxana, you called this meeting," Captain Riker formally stated as he glanced around his senior officer's conference room. Everyone that should be there, was present, including Dr. Selar, Dr. Ogawa, Commander LaForge, Commander Data, Commander Worf, Lieutenant Commander Crusher, and Mr. Homm who was standing behind his mistress, as usual.

There were trays of fresh muffins and fresh fruit and carafes of coffee, tea and uttaberry/juice at the center of the conference table. Everything was ready for this early morning meeting before the Alpha shift began.

"What's it about, Madam Ambassador?" the captain formally inquired.

"I had a talk with my husband," the lady announced. Surprisingly she seemed very energetic this morning, which Will Riker took as an indication that the lady had probably stayed up all night and had not yet made it to her bed. Certainly, her bright red and yellow patterned outfit was enough to wake up and energize anyone who gazed upon the zigzagging optical illusion style patterns of the fabric.

"And?" the captain of the Enterprise was forced to ask when the Ambassadress to Betazed did not continue elaborate.

"Admiral Winston Holt Wiley does not want Admiral Picard to know about the possible clues concerning the whereabouts of Beverly, until the time comes when we can actually do something about it." Lwaxana's countenance softened. "Winnie thinks that Jean-Luc should only have peace and joy during his paternity leave. He feels that he owes it to Admiral Picard and Admiral Janeway."

"And knowing about Beverly would certainly take any possibility of peace of mind away from him," Captain Riker softly observed.

"My husband insists that he be the one to tell Admiral Picard everything about Beverly that we know." She looked squarely at Will Riker. "If Jean-Luc decides to blame anyone about being excluded from this information and the holovid beforehand, Winston intends to be that person."

Deanna nodded as she reached over and patted her husband's arm. "My Mother is right, Captain. When Admiral Picard is told about what might have happened to Beverly, it should come from the Head of Starfleet." She glanced over at Wesley, as she asked Beverly's son a silent question.

"Yes, Captain Riker. I agree with Admiral Wiley's decision." Wesley gave Deanna a slight smile. "Jean-Luc Picard really doesn't need to know until it is absolutely necessary for my stepfather to have that knowledge."

"And," Lwaxana added, "if the UP can bring the Enterprise up to snuff with the transwarp drive, Winston is going to involve Jean-Luc in the quest, er, mission. I am not sure what my husband is going to do if smaller ships are involved. But that is neither here nor there. What's important is that we all keep our mouths shut." She focused her steely-eyed gaze on every person sitting around the table. "Understood?"

There was not a single person in that room who was foolish enough to even think about crossing the lady from Betazed, for Lwaxana had quite a reputation about getting her vengeance when she thought that she had been betrayed.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Unexpectedly, Wesley found himself being smothered in a great big hug. Considering the energizing red and yellow zigzag draped arms that were threatening to asphyxiate him by squeezing him to death, he knew the identity of his attacker.

"Lwaxana," he calmly stated. Privately, he thought that the lady had been expecting at least one little squeal from him when she had attacked him from behind.

Wesley glanced about Ten Forward and noticed that no one was paying attention to what Lwaxana was doing to him. He guessed that the crew was used to Lwaxana's behavior by now. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," the kind-hearted lady answered as she sat herself down on the chair that was kitty corner to Wesley's seat.

The usual polite responses instinctively entered Wesley's mind. But he also recognized that Lwaxana was not about to readily accept those placating words. "I guess I feel numb," he admitted.

"Too much?"

"Yes, to that. But also, the guilt I feel that I have had to keep so much from my stepfather. Jean-Luc may understand why the Fleet Admiral ordered what he did, when all is revealed. But I am afraid that privately, Jean-Luc won't forgive me for not telling him the truth about my mother."

"Jean-Luc is a rational man, Little One. He will forgive you."

"What I've done to him has nothing to do with being rational. He's going to be hurt by my actions."

"Wesley, maybe Jean-Luc will be upset, for a little while. But consider, if we can come to Jean-Luc and tell him a truth that will give him hope about Beverly, in spite of the possible horror of it, Jean-Luc will forgive you for it."

"But what if I can't forgive myself?"

"Then you'll sit in a corner and bewail your fate, and you won't be one-third the man that I really think that you are," Lwaxana somewhat brutally remarked.

Wesley chuckled. "You always know exactly what I need to hear, don't you?"

"Of course, I do, Little One." She swatted his arm. "Now, quit your moping, and go get your honorary family fairy godmother a triple martini from Mr. Homm. Get one for yourself as well."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I haven't had breakfast, yet."

"Well then, bring along some of those marvelous little Arcturian pastries as well that Guinan keeps hidden under the bar. We can have those for breakfast."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Mother, why are you counting onesies, one more time?" Kathryn innocently inquired as she walked into the nursery. She nodded over at Ryllis who was sitting in a corner, crocheting something that suspiciously looked like a baby blanket.

She walked over to the nanny. "What lovely work," she stated as she admired the navy-blue blanket with a pattern of silver stars and golden comets a blazing.

"Patterns like this are why I prefer crocheting over knitting," the seemingly always calm, dark eyed Betazed answered. She was content here at Picard House and had stayed at Picard House years beyond the norm for what she usually did for a job. Of course, the death of Beverly Picard had been the impetus for her decision to stay above and beyond the fact that she loved Anna and Billy Bob too.

"True, there is an advantage to being able to place your work down and not have to worry about dropping stitches," Kathryn cheerfully agreed.

"It's for your baby shower which is scheduled for three weeks from tomorrow, by the way, if you are up to it. Since your doctors have been screwing up the birthing schedule, it's been decided that your friends will hold the baby shower after your daughter is born. Other than more too-cute outfits and a couple of dozen starship mobiles, you already have everything that you need and then some, in spite of not having the shower before the baby is born. Everything is in readiness for your daughter's arrival."

"Gigi," Gretchen piped up as she precisely placed each little neatly folded Starfleet admiral style onesie in the cupboard, making sure that they all lined up just so. "I believe that my granddaughter's name is Gigi."

"Mother, don't push it," Kathryn warned. "Jean-Luc may agree to it, but don't make a fuss about it."

"He can be a contrary male on occasion if I do," Gretchen readily agreed, understanding her son-in-law's nature far better than Jean-Luc would wish for his mother-in-law to know. "So, my darling daughter, what are you doing here?"

"Just making sure that everything is in readiness for Monday," Kathryn sighed as she inspected the room, determined to make sure that every little detail was correct.

"The nursery was in readiness four months ago," Ryllis archly commented.

"That's not so!" Gretchen protested.

"I gather that there are many differing definitions of readiness," Kathryn wearily observed as she thought about the many contretemps she had heard about concerning her mother, Mildred, Lwaxana and Ryllis.

"But mine is the right one," Ryllis calmly stated, as she sent a telling look in Gretchen's direction. "For I am the nanny." And that was the final word about the matter.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The ball rolled right next to his hover chair in the herb garden. Chakotay eyed the neon green tennis ball and reached down to pick it up off of the flagstone path.

Unexpected growls caused him to quickly sit upright and look about for the source. He eyed the two puppies who were now sitting in front of him, simultaneously warily eyeing him as well as their ball quite protectively.

"You'd better toss it," a child's voice suggested. A young boy dressed in blue play clothes ran up to him.

"Billy Bob." Chakotay glanced about. "Do the puppies know how to swim?" Chakotay asked as he determined which was the best direction to toss the ball.

"Yes," Anna answered as she ran up to join her brother. She grinned, then pointed toward the closest pool. For it was Billy Bob's turn to dry off the puppies the next time they got wet, so she had no problem with their puppies going for a swim.

Moving his chair about, Chakotay carefully pushed himself into a standing position, before he did an overhand toss for the ball toward the far end of the swimming pool.

The puppies immediately pivoted and raced after the ball, happily jumping into the pool at full speed, splashing away to their heart's content. Billy Bob chased after them. But Anna stayed behind.

"Winnie and Loxie, is it?" Chakotay cordially asked the little girl with the bright red gold braids and the spring green short set.

"Yes. MommaKath is helping us train them. And Grandmother says that they are very well behaved for six-month-old puppies."

"Indeed, they are."

Anna took a step closer to Chakotay as he maneuvered himself to sit back onto his hover chair. "You had hard exercises this morning," Anna observed.

Surprised that Anna had noticed such a thing, Chakotay agreed with the child. "Yes. Phryne's exercise routine was rather demanding this morning. And I've got another physiotherapy session later on this afternoon, too."

"You're moving more," Anna continued. "And the pain is lessoning."

Startled by her words, Chakotay could only agree. "How do you know this?"

"Sometimes I see colors around people – around you. And your colors are calming down, changing toward the more peaceful arrays. Auntie Lwaxana says that people like me can sense things and see a man's spirit colors. But I only can see the colors around people who are family or who have great emotions."

Her words astonished him. "I'm family?" he carefully asked.

"Yes. You always were." She giggled as she stepped closer to him to squeeze his arm. "And now, Kol is going to be my little brother. I've always wanted a baby brother."

Taken back by her words, Chakotay observed, "You're going to have a baby sister real soon. There's going to be a lot of changes around here."

Anna giggled again. "Silly, Picard House is big. There's plenty of room for my baby brother and my baby sister." She hopscotched along a few of the flagstone slags, before she turned at simply looked at Chakotay and then grinned. "And you."

Chakotay held his breath for a moment. "I take it that MommaKath mentioned me to you?"

"Uhuh," Anna seemed to agree. "You're going to be our new step-papa. You're going to teach me things that no one else can. I will learn from you, if you let me."

"What sort of things?" for Chakotay was becoming confused by this child who seemed so advanced for her age in some things.

"Uncle Q says that you can teach things that he can't." She skipped some more before being distracted by a colorful butterfly flitting close by as it landed on some lavender.

"What sort of things?" for Chakotay was curious as to exactly what it was that Q thought that he could teach Anna.

"I want to learn how to see my spirit guide. Will you teach me?"

"Yes, I'll teach you when you're ready, Anna, if you really want to learn."

"I do." She turned and looked toward the swimming pool where the sounds of puppies barking were now being intermixed with an adult yelling. Then she looked back at Chakotay. "I already speak to some spirit guides, but I don't know which one is really mine or what it means." The yelling got louder. "I'd better go," she stated. She quickly ran up to Chakotay, and reached up to kiss his cheek before scampering off. "See you!"

TBC


	55. In the Still of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day before all hell brakes loose.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 55:

In the Still of the Night…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc liked this time of the day the best. The twins had been read their bedtime stories – all three of them – before they had finally fallen asleep. As usual, Jean-Luc had then carried Anna back to her bedroom. Even though they were supposed to alternate which bedroom their Papa would tell them their bedtime stories in, it seemed that Jean-Luc always found the pair of them on the bed in Billy Bob's room, with its glowing galaxy wallpaper, flying drone spaceships, and a very large mobile hanging from the ceiling of the Sol system with its accompanying orbiting planets. A flotilla of spaceships including models of every Enterprise from the NX to the D orbited the mobile planets. Billy Bob had added a model of Voyager after Kathryn had met them for the very first time. Kathryn had thought Billy Bob's gesture to be so very sweet of him. Jean-Luc just knew better. His son simply liked spaceships.

Jean-Luc looked forward to the quiet moments with his wife for during the day, their lives just seemed to be too hectic. And they were on leave, no less.

"They're asleep?" A soft, weary sounding voice asked.

"For now," was Jean-Luc's way of greeting his wife. She was leaning against a cement balustrade that flanked part of the terrace that the family used for eating out doors. She was gazing upon the last remnants of the sunset over the ocean.

He carefully placed a tray that contained a pink drink in a tall glass, shortbread fingers, a small plate of fruit and cheese, and a stein of ale on a table next to the chaise lounge.

"Anna was unusually restless tonight, for some reason."

Kathryn turned to face her husband. "She's a very sensitive girl, Jean-Luc, especially when it comes to recognizing the moods of the people around her. Above and beyond the impending birth of Gigi, all of us have been very tense lately. I'm sure that she feels it."

"You're probably right. Things have been very tense around here." He went over to the balustrade and paced an arm partially about Kathryn's waist automatically rubbing her back muscles. Her pregnancy had become very obvious over the past few weeks. Now he truly believed that Kathryn was close to giving birth.

"Ludvig made you a special protein drink. I think that it is cherries mixed in with whatever the doctors told him to add, as well as ground almonds and vanilla homemade yoghurt. If you feel up to it, please try it, Kathryn."

"That shake actually sounds good."

He squeezed her waist. "Are you still suffering from heart burn, my dear?"

"Katherine Pulaski came by a little while ago and gave me something to counteract the acidity. It worked."

"Good." He hugged her again, and then he stilled. From down below, through the open ball room doors, the opening notes of what was to become a brilliantly performed Chopin Nocturne could be heard. They listened for a while. And then Bronislawa started playing a series of Mendelssohn's "Gondola Songs". After those beautiful notes were finished she switched over to a piano arrangement of Offenbach's "Barcarolle" from "The Tales of Hoffman".

"Brawny is playing a full concert tonight," Kathryn whispered as she snuggled next to Jean-Luc on a wicker chaise lounge, munching on some honey crisp apple slices. They had migrated to the lounge after the first number.

"I think Brawny is saying farewell to all of us," Jean-Luc softly admitted. "She is accepting her posting on the Enterprise."

Kathryn nodded into his chest. "Brawny discussed this with me. She is taking Ludvig and their daughter with her."

"I know. Ludvig came to see me this afternoon to tell me that he was leaving." Jean-Luc sat up and placed a slice of pineapple on her lips. Then he reached for his beer. She greedily ate the fruit. "The man has already arranged for his cousin to replace him. We will meet Ral tomorrow. Ludvig says that Ral is a better chef than he is."

"I find that hard to believe." Kathryn sat up too and reached for the rest of her protein shake. "I'll have to ask Ludvig to give Ral this recipe. This cherry shake is actually very good." She felt her husband tense up a little and tried to guess the source of this tension. "Jean-Luc, I will still have to be on a high-calorie diet when I am nursing our daughter."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he stated. "I am sure that I will not be the only person who has mentioned in the past to you that you needed to gain weight – even before you became pregnant."

"I did gain weight when I got home," Kathryn countered.

"All of two kilos? Or was it three?"

"Really, Jean-Luc?"

"Kathryn, I just want you to be healthy. And I promise you that I don't pay any attention to additional kilos." He looked off into the garden for a second. "After the twins were born, Beverly obsessed over how much weight she had gained during her pregnancy, to the point where it was effecting our relationship. It took her a while to understand, that I only cared about her, and not that she was a dress size or two larger than she had been. Eventually she lost some weight, not that I cared. I only wished for her to be happy."

"Is that your way of saying that if I go up two or four dress sizes, you won't mind?"

"Kathryn, I would like to think that there are those who consider me to be the perfect husband," he teased. "The odds are that I won't even notice that you have gained weight, if you don't tell me. And if you are healthy and happy, then I won't care at all."

"Liar," she whispered to herself.

He pushed away from her, mock-affronted by her response. "Kathryn, better gaining a few kilos because you had our daughter than wearing a shiny new Borg exoskeleton because the Borg Queen wants you back."

Even though the night stars were shining bright, there was no moonlight. Still, she studied her husband's face in the low lighting from the lit outdoor sconces, and realized that maybe he actually meant what he had said. She hugged him fiercely. "Oh, Jean-Luc," and then the tears started to fall. "I am just so tired of waiting."

And her husband was smart enough to know that she did not mean just the birth of their daughter, as he comforted his wife.

So, he held her close as they listened to Brawny play Chopin's Waltz in C-sharp minor, Opus 64, No. 2. Her performance was dazzling. And it was over then, as they heard a low voice and then a wailing baby enter the ball room.

"I love that waltz," Kathryn whispered, as she wiped her eyes.

"So, do I," Jean-Luc answered back. "When the Enterprise arrives, I am going to have delivered to Brawny, the Steinway grand piano. That piano deserves to be played by someone who loves the instrument. I know that Brawny will take care of that piano. I've already told Will that I am going to do this so that he can assign them quarters with a living room large enough to handle the size of the piano."

"What a wonderful gesture, Jean-Luc." She reached up and lightly kissed his lips. "So, I won't be able to take piano lessons?" Kathryn teased, even as she was touched by Jean-Luc's generous gift to someone who had come into Jean-Luc's life as Wesley's classmate.

"There was a Bosendorfer Imperial 290 grand piano in storage that is concert size from about 1925. Currently, I'm having it professionally restored and then it will be placed in the Grand Ballroom. So, if you want your lessons, Kathryn, you can start them in about two months."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Still up?" a voice hailed from a distance. The sound of heels clacking against the carved slate and granite slabs of the terrace, grew louder.

Jean-Luc stirred and realized that he had been dozing with Kathryn in his arms on the chaise lounge. He thought about grumbling, but his displeasure was not about to stop Dr. Katherine Pulaski from approaching.

"Go away," Kathryn mumbled as she didn't really want to come back to reality. She liked it here in the safety of Jean-Luc's arms.

"Sorry, no can do."

"Oh, great. You're perky at this time of night," Kathryn complained, as she opened her eyes to gaze up at Dr. Pulaski running a medical scanner over and around her body.

"I always am when a pregnant patient comes to full term. Or close enough," she just had to add. "Your blood pressure is up again. I will tell Doc Joseph asap."

"Did somebody call my name?" another voice in the distance inquired. But it wasn't the usual photonic image of the doctor that approached. Instead it was that of a young man wearing an ensign's caduceus bars, with a full head of sandy brown hair and speaking with a slight Kentuckian drawl.

Both Kathryn and Jean-Luc just stared. It figured that the EMH would want a full head of hair with his alter ego.

"I'm your new personal intern assistant, Dr. Pulaski," the EMH politely announced.

"God hates me," Katherine muttered not quite to only herself.

"If there is a deity about somewhere, I would agree with your assessment." From the med kit that he was carrying, the EMH pulled out a hypospray, shined it up (unnecessarily) on his sleeve, and then with a flourish handed it to Dr. Pulaski. "This should take care of any undesired uncontrolled nanoprobe or nanite activity, left over from our friends, the Borg."

"I think I'm going to retire," Katherine Pulaski mumbled, "very soon." She muttered, "Day after tomorrow sounds good."

The EMH ignored Katherine's blatherings. "And setting number two will deal with the blood pressure issue," the EMH just had to add.

"I need a drink," Katherine Pulaski announced out loud. She glanced again at her medical tricorder, studied it, and then ordered, "Kathryn, go to bed. You need as much sleep as possible in order to be prepared for Monday."

"I anticipated that necessity," the EMH snippily informed Dr. Pulaski. "I added some of my special re-programed nanites along with the neo-methyldopablood pressure medicine in the hypospray, to convince Admiral Kathryn's personal Borg nanites to lull the admiral to sleep," the EMH felt that it was necessary to mention. "Those busy little nanoprobes and nanites should be done with their duties in about twenty minutes, Admiral Kathryn."

Dr. Katherine Pulaski groaned out loud. "You thought that it was a good idea to reprogram Borg nanoprobes and nanites?"

"I do it all the time," was the doctor's defense, "with great success."

Jean-Luc carefully stood, eased his bride to her feet, glared at the arguing doctors, and announced, "I am taking Kathryn to bed. The two of you – go to the library and wait for my return."

"Jean-Luc, I did not authorize giving Kathryn a sedative!" Katherine argued.

"But you were going to do so," the other doctor countered. "You're too good a doctor not to have planned on doing it!"

"Library! Now!" was Jean-Luc's final statement as he escorted his wife indoors. Kathryn didn't laugh until she reached the elevator, out of the doctor's earshot.

"Though I can sympathize with Katherine, I think that my EMH won that round," Kathryn announced as she entered the elevator.

"Oh, I think that they are fairly evenly matched. And yes, I do believe that your EMH did win that round, my dear."

A few minutes later Jean-Luc entered the library, not exactly surprised to see Katherine Pulaski sitting on the armchair by the fireplace which was now emitting a warm glow. She was drinking what appeared to be some of his most expensive Aldebaran green whiskey, for the bottle was on his desk. How Katherine had picked the lock to the liquor cellarette so quickly, he did not wish to know.

The Doc Joseph was sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed.

"I don't want to know," Jean-Luc announced as he noticed the photonic being's attitude. He then grasped the double shot of whiskey that Katherine had kindly poured for him and that was waiting on a coaster for him on a side table.

"We've made our peace," Katherine announced. The EMH grunted and then nodded. Then, much to Jean-Luc's surprise, Katherine Pulaski handed him an actual paper page from a notebook. "These are today's health numbers and all the medications that Kathryn is taking, Jean-Luc. Keep them with you in case you have to transport the lady and you end up getting stuck in elevator somewhere because of a city-wide power shortage. An earthquake. Or some sort of catastrophic mischief in which Q might indulge."

Jean-Luc froze, as he recognized what Katherine Pulaski was referencing. "I'd almost forgotten about being trapped in the elevator with Beverly going in to labor, along with Q, Lwaxana, Wesley, and Guinan's Uncle Terkim."

"Now that is a devil's cadre if I have ever heard of one. Besides, if I hadn't met Uncle Terkim myself, I would have never believed any of the stories that I heard about that incident, or about Uncle Terkim," Katherine remarked as she watched Jean-Luc read her note. She noticed the surprised look on his face. For the piece of paper actually did have Kathryn's health statistics on them. It wasn't what he had been expecting.

He turned toward the EMH. "I won't have any arguing around my wife, Doctor. She does not need any more additional stress in her life."

"That was not my intention," the EMH protested.

"But it could have been the effect," Jean-Luc argued. "Let's just try to get through the next few days." He drank down in one take, all of his Aldebaran whiskey. And then placed the glass in front of Kate Pulaski. "I need another drink," he informed the lady.

"I think I'll join you, for my host is a very generous man," Katherine agreed as she poured one shot each into the glasses. "It is going to be a long couple of days," Katherine observed, as Jean-Luc picked up his glass again, drank that and then went to the library door. "Do you want to follow the Betazed custom of the father getting drunk during the delivery?" she too-innocently asked.

Jean-Luc stopped, turned around to look at the two doctors sitting there, glared at Katherine Pulaski, thought for a moment and nodded; then he merely said, "Good night."

"Gotta love that man," Katherine Pulaski announced, after Jean-Luc left the room. "He's such an elitist pain in the ass."

"But he means well for a pain in the ass," the EMH quickly added. "And he is good for Admiral Janeway."

"I will not disagree about that, at least," Katherine Pulaski tartly agreed. "The man has to be good for something besides saving the universe every now and then."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Something was poking Jean-Luc Picard in the ribs. He did not care to have his sleep disturbed, so he rolled over and tried to ignore it.

But the poker was insistent and kept on poking.

"What?" he finally found the strength to ask.

"Papa!"

He instantly recognized Anna's voice. And woke up immediately, with adrenalin coursing through his veins.

"What, Anna? Are you sick?" He turned toward the sound of his daughter's voice.

"Papa."

His eyes focused in the night light setting, to discover that his six-year-old daughter had been poking him in the ribs with a phaser rifle. This image scared him to the very depths of his soul, where it would remain in his nightmares for decades to come. He grabbed the weapon from his daughter.

"Anna! What are you doing with the rifle?" He noted that his son was standing by the slightly cracked open bedroom door, peering out into the hallway, holding a hand phaser as well, aimed through the opening. It was as if the boy was watching for something. "Billy Bob! Why are you guarding the door?"

Jean-Luc's voice was loud enough to disturb his wife. "What?" Kathryn whispered as she rolled over to face the disturbance.

Anna leaned over her father to reach up and hand her stepmother a hand phaser which Kathryn grabbed. For clearly, there was something happening, and it wasn't good.

"The bad men," Anna coolly announced, in spite of her childish voice. "They're here."

TBC


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Well, the battle is finally being resolved. But don't think that this is the end of anything, for there is a lot more to come with this story as well as the next, "REATTACHED MEANT: Beverly: Her Story" coming very soon…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm having health issues again, as well as trying to deal with intermittent cable service.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Going Down Fighting

Chapter 56:

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Billy Bob moved back away from the bedroom door. A moment later, Katherine Pulaski, Mildred Krebs and Gretchen Janeway burst into the room. All three ladies were wearing pajamas and clutching phaser rifles. Surprisingly, all three ladies actually looked like they knew how to use their weapons, too. Right behind them, Lieutenant Ayala and another Voyager security officer, Lieutenant Baytart entered the room.

Katherine Pulaski waved around her tricorder. "No uninvited guests in this part of the house," she announced. "So far," she just had to add.

Lieutenant Ayala went up to the bed. By now, Jean-Luc Picard was seated on the edge of the bed, pulling on his pants and shoes, over his shorts. "Admirals," Ayala whispered."

"Report," Kathryn commanded.

"At least fourteen of the enemy beamed into the herb garden and the rose garden. B'Elanna's shield surprise is working rather well. Those mercs will still be trying to break through the individual trap shield frequencies by the time that Starfleet security shows up." He glanced down at his tricorder. "We are still in a communications black-out." He double-checked the time. "Starfleet security should arrive about four minutes, five seconds, from now."

"But?" Jean-Luc asked as he watched Gretchen helping Kathryn to get her shoes on, as well as a tunic over her nightgown. Now, Katherine and Gretchen were helping to ease Kathryn out of the hologrid into a standing position.

"As the Commander said, Commander Torres' Borg shield traps are working perfectly," Mildred Krebs announced as she kept checking the room for any anomalies. "It's the other attackers that are the problem."

"How many and where?" Kathryn ordered Lieutenant Ayala to answer.

"We don't know. That's where the danger lies." Mildred kept looking about. "They may not be able to beam into the super-shielded rooms. But that doesn't mean that they cannot be in proximity to these rooms and then attack."

"Recommendation?" Admiral Picard asked of Mrs. Krebs.

"Get Kathryn and the kids to the nursery, and use the secret passageways to get to the sub-basement." Mildred gripped her rifle a little tighter as she approached the door, since Mike Ayala was carefully checking the windows.

"Uh oh," Katherine Pulaski muttered.

"What?" Jean-Luc growled.

"The transporter power has been cut to this side of the house. We can't beam

out," Katherine complained.

"I can't walk down five flights of stairs," Kathryn nervously whispered.

"It could jump start her labor," Katherine Pulaski softly informed all in the room.

"Elevator?" Jean-Luc questioned.

"Too vulnerable," Mildred answered.

Ayala looked at his security officer, then turned to face Admiral Janeway. "Admiral, Baytart and I are going to carry you. We are the only ones here that can do so." He glanced over at the armed women. "Ladies, you're going to have to lead the parade." He glanced over at Admiral. "Sir, you are going to have to…"

"Defend the rear," the admiral stated.

Billy Bob tugged on his Papa's arm.

"What?" commanded the admiral not liking the fact that somehow his son was involved in this dangerous situation.

"Nursery reps'," the boy announced as if the solution to a problem was obvious.

"Meaning?" his Papa queried.

Kathryn supplied the answer from across the room. "Anti-grav belt?" she suggested. "Isn't that right, Billy Bob?"

"Yep," the boy answered, proud that he'd come to this solution all by himself.

Jean-Luc nodded as the light of recognition dawned, "Of course. We can replicate an anti-grav belt…"

"For MommaKath," the boy filled in.

"Smart kid," Lieutenant Ayala observed.

"My grandson is indeed," Gretchen answered.

There was a scrapping at the door. Cautiously Mildred opened it to let in the puppies. "They'll go before us. If there is anyone anywhere that should not be there, the puppies will warn us."

"No!" Billy Bob cried when he realized what his Auntie Mildred was suggesting.

Anna silenced her brother with a glare. She understood the reasoning behind this order. "They'll be all right," Anna whispered to her brother.

He knew that his sister might be lying, but there wasn't much that he could do about it at the moment. He nodded. And then he bent over to pet the two energetic puppies to calm them down, momentarily. For both dogs knew that something was causing these activities that most definitely were not routine.

The two security officers approached Kathryn Janeway. "I can walk to the nursery," Kathryn mentioned. Then she blanched. "Where's Kol and Ryllis?"

Gretchen squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "Kol's spending the night in the guest house with Chakotay. Phryne is trying to get Kol used to being around his father on a full-time basis"

"So, the nursery is unoccupied?" Jean-Luc questioned.

"Yes," Gretchen stated, not bothering to take precious time to explain.

Katherine Pulaski waved her tricorder in the direct of the nursery which was the door to the left, across the hall from this master bedroom. "No signs of life," she quickly whispered.

Jean-Luc took a deep breath, glanced about to make sure that everyone was in position, and ordered, "Let's go."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Something is up at the big house," a terse Chakotay whispered, as he walked over to the crib, picking up his son, slowly rocking the baby more to comfort himself with the connection to his son and not to actually wake the babe.

"My silent warning went off a minute ago," Phryne agreed as she removed two hand phasers from two different hidey holes and handed one to Chakotay. "We're in black-out mode, for some reason." Then she held out her arms for Kol. "I'm going to place Kol inside the linen closet in the bathroom on the floor." She quickly did that, and then announced to his father as she returned, "Kol is still asleep. When that one sleeps, boy does he really sleep." She glanced out the window and did not see anyone moving about. "I've already armed the house's shields and perimeter alarms, and sent notice to security about that." She nodded her head in the direction of the main outside door to the house. "I'm going to position myself over there to keep an eye on the pathways from the garden."

Chakotay nodded. "I'll be against that wall by the sliding doors. I can see if anyone approaches from the pool areas as well as having a sight line to the back door." He glanced up toward a screen that was on the wall of the common room. "What about the outside security cameras?"

"Can't trust what we're seeing for they could have been hacked," Phryne quickly answered even as she put her phaser in her pocket and went to a wall panel, tapped it and then pulled out a very large phaser rifle from behind the panel and checked it over. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to keep them on just in case the system has not been compromised."

"You look like you know how to handle that," Chakotay remarked even as he maneuvered his hover chair into the best position for a sightline of the pool and garden area.

"I am a commander in Starfleet, Captain. I've been known to fire a phaser rifle now and then."

"Did the patient survive?" Chakotay nervously joked.

Phryne stuck her head up from the side of a sofa where she was now crouching.

"You won't," she warned. She glanced about. "Where's Amelyss?"

"Today's her day off," Chakotay reminded the therapist. "She went to San Fran with her grandmother to visit some friends. That's one of the reasons as to why Ryllis brought Kol here for the night. She wasn't going to be in the nursery."

"Damn, I'm forgetful in my dotage. Amelyss picked a good time to take a day off," Phryne observed even as she kept checking for outside movement.

"It's her usual day off," Chakotay retorted as he kept centering himself to be in readiness. He kept searching the pre-dawn darkness for any sign of motion, too.

"Oh, that's right." Phryne didn't want to admit that she was nervous, and now, forgetful. Which clearly must be a side effect of all of the recent stress that she'd been enduring since being briefed by Lieutenant Commander Reynolds.

There was something in Phryne's voice that captured Chakotay's attention. "Phryne, have you ever been in a combat situation before?"

"Uh, no. Normally physiotherapists are not the target when a ship is being attacked. Though I have been on board a few ships that were involved in battles."

"Keep taking deep, steady breaths, then. And count on your instincts to keep you alive. And don't ask: should I shoot? Shoot, first. Ask: should I have, later. Our weapons are set on stun."

"Thanks for the reminder, Chakotay."

Chakotay was surprised to realize that Phryne was not being sarcastic at this moment.

"Odds are, they won't even bother with us," Chakotay mentioned. "Though if we hear sustained gunfire…"

"We'll stay here and defend," Phryne interrupted. "Kol, remember?"

Chakotay slowly nodded in agreement, knowing that she was right in spite of what his heart was telling him about rushing to rescue Kathryn yet one more time.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"NO! NO! NO!" Q screamed at the top of his lungs. "I won't permit it!"

"No to what?" Guinan calmly asked as she walked toward Q. Swirls of pink clouds eddied about her feet, as she moved around Q's cloud hidey hole.

"They are trying to hurt my Kathy!" With that screech, Q waved his fingers. "They. Will. Pay," echoed about the clouds as Q vanished with a great boom of thunder.

Guinan found some amusement in Q's theatrics, even as she whispered, "Take care of it, Q. It's time to make them suffer."

Then Guinan smiled the kind of smile that anyone who knew of her, would make them very, very afraid. "I am going to pay an ex-DaiMon a visit. It is finally time. And the Continuum be damned."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The moment Admiral Picard set foot in the nursery, things changed. Four mercenaries ran in from the connecting room and started blasting away at the door to the nursery to prevent anyone else from entering. Then the fifth merc entered and pointed his phaser weapon directly at Picard's artificial heart. "Call your wife and son in here," this man ordered.

Jean-Luc did not have to think twice. "Kathryn, twins, run!" Anticipating a phaser blast, Picard dropped and rolled, firing as he went. He ended up right next to a cupboard, kicked backward to hit a cupboard door panel, using it as leverage as he lunged forward, rolling and taking pot shots all at the same time.

And then the gun battle really started with phasers blazing, for from the ceiling came phaser fire, as three stealth operatives shimmered into view, swiftly floating downward as they fired. Considering that they were firing at the mercs, Jean-Luc quickly came to the conclusion that these operatives must belong to Mildred Krebs' special forces.

Still, they were outmanned. The situation changed when Ayala and Baytart burst into the room, phasers firing too. These two men did not seem surprised by the additional help. And Jean-Luc realized that he had been kept out of the loop for some reason – again.

Barely twenty seconds later, the attackers were down, along with one of Mildred's people.

"Where's Kathryn and the twins?" Jean-Luc gasped out at Ayala as the lieutenant went and checked on the special ops soldier who had been phasered. He was alive.

"Last I saw of them, they were headed down the service staircase. Two of Mildred's special ops were with them. That's why we came to this fight," Ayala explained as he methodically went over to each downed merc, and put handcuffs on each one, after removing all the weapons that he could find during a quick examination.

"Were they going to the safe room?" Jean-Luc quickly asked.

"Probably," one of Mildred's men answered, "Admiral. We were observing from our own stealth ship, but were unable to determine just how many of the enemy were beaming into the compound. There's an enemy stealth vessel hovering above the beach by the stables. Their beam-ins were being shielded by some sort of unknown technology. Boy, that Klingon engineer can curse," the man added as an aside, "when she realized what they were doing."

Something beeped. Another operative pulled out his tricorder and let loose an expletive that Jean-Luc did not understand.

"What?" the admiral yelled.

"Mildred's party has stopped moving. They seem to be located in the family dining room."

"That is not on the way to the alternate routes to the safe room," Jean-Luc explained. Then he stilled. "But there is a replicator."

"Understood. Let's go, and escort them to the safe sub-level," the operative who seemed to be in charge ordered. Then he pivoted and shot each one of the mercs, one more time with his phaser rifle. "For good measure," he grunted out.

Jean-Luc nodded his approval of the action, for these mercs had attacked his family. The only reason he wanted to keep them alive for now, was to catch whoever was behind this nightmare. He ran with the men toward the main staircase which was the closest way down to the main floor.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief as the anti-grav belt did its job and alleviated a good deal of the stress from the pull of gravity. "It's working," she informed both of her doctors as she floated slightly above the floor.

"Right," the EMH agreed. "Now, let's get to the service stairway and head down."

"I know how to get into the safe sub-level, from down below," Katherine Pulaski added. "Lieutenant Ayala showed me a few weeks ago, the two other alternative routes other than the nursery."

"Then you lead the way," Kathryn stated, even as she was still adjusting her belt.

"Papa," Anna firmly stated.

"What about your Papa?" Gretchen quickly asked as she tried to disguise her concern.

"He is with Uncle Mike," Anna explained not bothering to mention her psychic GPS tether to her father. "They're coming to us."

"Well, your Father knows where we are going, so he can meet us there," the EMH primly announced. With that, the EMH stuck his head out the door, and immediately experienced a phaser blast that went through the image of his head. Fortunately, one of Mildred's warriors yanked the doctor backwards even as he started firing down the hall, and then shut the door, locking it. He knew that the locked door would only delay the attackers for a few seconds.

"Let's go through the kitchens, if it is safe," Kathryn ordered. "Then out into the gardens."

"Huh?" several voices asked.

"B'Elanna's bear traps are working. We can grab some cold thermal sheeting from the kitchen and hide in the garden. The sheeting should disguise our heat signatures and if the ground mercs try to follow us, they'll get trapped by B'Elanna's Borg shields, too. They will be unable to follow us," Kathryn explained.

Realization dawned on Mildred's face. "If we can lure all the mercs out into the garden…"

"They probably know about the force field traps," one of the special ops people announced.

"No." Mildred shook her head. "I'm pretty sure that once they are ensnared by the Borg force fields, all communications are cut, too." With that she pulled open the patio door, scanned the immediate area and then ordered, "Follow me." Then as everyone moved through the doorway, she whispered to Kathryn, "Sub-basement, right?"

Kathryn stiffly nodded. "I'm pretty sure that we were still being monitored," she softly stated. "Kitchen service stairs?"

"You mean the stairs that were closed down a few years ago," Mildred countered.

Kathryn nervously laughed before she nodded. "Sounds about right."

Mildred started phasering every security monitor that she passed even if they were in corridors that they were not traversing and simply passing by. And she didn't miss any either, since she was the person who had the security cameras installed in the first place.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

There were cobwebs, and the lighting wasn't functioning, but between the guards' wrist beacons and the flashlight settings on the tricorders, there was more than enough adequate lighting to find the sub-level safe room and vault. They beat Jean-Luc and his group by only a few seconds, across the threshold.

Greatly relieved to see his family still in one piece, Jean-Luc swiftly hugged Kathryn and then the twins even as Anna and Billy Bob were distracted by trying to keep the puppies in line.

"Sit," ordered Kathryn. And miraculously, both puppies did so. "Quiet," Kathryn added. The puppies shut up.

"How long?" Jean-Luc tersely asked of Ayala.

"Another two minutes and ten seconds before Starfleet security hits," was the commander's answer.

Jean-Luc jerked his head toward two of Mildred's soldiers. "You stay here, lock the doors, and be on guard." He nodded at Ayala. "You're with me. We'll guard the north staircase." He looked over at Lieutenant Baytart, the EMH and the third soldier. "The three of you guard the kitchen staircase. Start blasting the walls if the enemy shows up since communications are still out. We'll hear or feel the blasts." Then he glanced over at his wife, and silently pleaded with his wife not to do anything foolish. "Please, Kathryn. Keep my children safe."

Katherine Pulaski blinked. Jean-Luc really did know how to manipulate Kathryn Janeway, for just about everyone expected Admiral Janeway to put up a fuss about not being able to join the defensive parties. Instead, Kathryn Janeway merely nodded in agreement, though privately, Katherine assumed that the Kathryn Janeway would take up the matter of her husband ordering her about, in the near future.

"Be careful, Jean-Luc," Kathryn whispered. "I'll keep our family safe. You keep yourself safe." She said it with a sad smile, knowing that in some matters, her husband was just exactly like herself in battle.

"I'll see to it," Gretchen added, as she assumed her warrior-woman stance by the door.

Jean-Luc briefly nodded, and then they all departed, leaving the four women with the twins, the puppies and two guards.

The sound of the ultra-secure door closing behind them, reassured Jean-Luc. He knew that if the enemy made it this far, it would only be because he was dead, or sorely wounded. And Starfleet security was less than two minutes away now, so with a bit of confidence, Jean-Luc quietly moved toward the main staircase.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"They ain't good guys," Commander Reynolds observed from his command post as he watched six more mercs beam into the kitchen area.

"One minute, twenty-eight seconds to go," the very young cadet announced as she checked the monitors. "There are three mercs in the ball room, but none on the upper floors. Five downed and secured merc in the nursery. Two moving in the family dining room corridor."

Commander Reynolds was impressed by the young lady's self-control. He wasn't about to say it out loud, but he was sweating a bit. "We'll have to manually fire the defense weapons if any of the mercs step outside of the house.

"I've already started scanning for mercs if they should come close to a window or thin wall in the house where we can detect them. We can still blast 'em and repair things later."

Malcolm Reynolds, appreciated in inventiveness of his cadet intern. "Very good thinking, Cadet Castle."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mercado looked down at his quarry from the ceiling of the main spiral staircase leading up from the lower floors. In a moment his prey would be in the grand foyer. For Jean-Luc Picard had actually done something foolish – he had gone up the stairs a bit ahead of his cohort.

Mercado's position would be given away the moment he fired down at Admiral Picard, from within his stealth mode, but he could not resist the chance to finally confront, face-to-face with his target. Before he killed this former captain, this Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, there were a few questions that he felt compelled to ask this eluding admiral.

A burning lightening slashed across his neck and burrowed into his chest. In agony, Jean-Luc Picard fell backwards a few steps, landing on his back.

Mercado floated down and pointed his blaster directly at Picard's head. He quietly asked, "Why does Bok hate you so? I have never had a client quite like him before – so filled with nothing but vengeance."

It took Jean-Luc a moment to summon up enough strength to answer the question. For Jean-Luc figured that the more he kept the merc talking, the longer he might have to live. For he did not doubt that this man intended to kill him.

"Bok's son attacked my ship without provocation." He gasped a bit more, trying to control the wave of pain that was rushing through his system. "I had to destroy it. Bok has blamed me ever since, even though his son managed to kill members of my crew and destroy my ship during the battle." He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. "Still don't know why Bok's son was so stupid to attack a ship that outgunned his…"

"Yet, you said that the Ferengi son destroyed your ship."

"Yes, the Stargazer. We had no notice of anything wrong until we were actually fired upon and attacked. It took me completely by surprise. That was the only advantage that Bok's son had over my ship." Jean-Luc fell silent as he tried to rustle up more strength to talk.

Jean-Luc studied the man in front of him. Despite the massive noir colored body armor and weaponry, Jean-Luc detected the anti-grav units that he was using in order to control his movements. His attacker was apparently a medium to small humanoid of some sort.

"You're not capable of getting the jump on me, Admiral Picard," Mercado boasted as he correctly guessed what Picard was trying to assess. "I regret I must kill you, Admiral Picard. You do not deserve such a fate."

"Then why…"

"I accepted the job, therefore I must do it. My honor demands it." Mercado moved something on the rifle. "Bok also ordered the deaths of your wife and son. I was to kill them in front of you."

Picard used the waning remnants of his strength to plead, "No. Kill me… Not them…"

"I will not kill them, Jean-Luc Picard. Ex-DaiMon Bok does not deserve to have the deaths of Admiral Janeway and your Billy Bob to his credit. He is not a worthy enough being. Your death will have to suffice." With that, Mercado pointed his rifle at Picard's bald head pressing the front of the barrel directly to Jean-Luc's forehead. "Your death will be painless even though Bok demanded otherwise."

Jean-Luc tried to raise his arms to grab the barrel of the phaser rifle, but he was completely drained; the pain had defeated him. Admiral Picard stared at the assassin, eyes filled with hate and defiance as he awaited his death. He thought it ironic that what the Borg and the Cardassians could not accomplish, this little assassin was about to achieve.

Instead, a large wide-beam phaser blast hit Mercado squarely in the back, easily cutting through the attacker's personal defense shield.

Even through the haze of Jean-Luc's pain, he realized that B'Elanna Torres must have found a way around the enemy's personal shields

Admiral Picard watched Mercado tumbled to the marble tiled floor, flopping about as he fell.

Jean-Luc was finding it hard to breathe, all of a sudden. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. In disbelief, Jean-Luc found the energy to turn his head. A horror, almost too great to be born, flooded his system right before he lost consciousness. For it was Dr. Katherine Pulaski who had fired the phaser that had saved his life. Jean-Luc Picard would be in Dr. Pulaski's debt for the rest of his life if he ever regained consciousness. He would forever remember the cackle of her laugh. If he had had the energy, Jean-Luc Picard would have cursed the fates.

Katherine Pulaski continued to cackle, almost overcome with elation – and nerves. The evil grin that he had caught sight of before he lost consciousness told him, without a doubt that Dr. Katherine Pulaski was going to relish this moment of personal victory and Jean-Luc's indebtedness and its aftermath, for many, many years to come.

Jean-Luc Picard fleetingly wished, for an infinitesimal moment, that he would not have to wake up again to face Katherine Pulaski.

TBC


	57. Dies Irae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if it is justice or revenge, but the bad guy start getting punished...

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 57:

Dies Irae

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"You dared to attack my Kathy!" a voice boomed about Picard House and its grounds, reverberating with such intensity and ear-splintering volume, that everyone, both good and bad guys, stopped still for a moment. All stared up at the highest peak of the roof on the main house where Q was boldly standing.

Q started throwing lightning bolts at the merc targets, but instead of coming close like Q's lightning bolts usually did, these bolts hit their targets. He was aiming at the mercs trapped in the individual Borg shield traps. The lightning danced about the interior of each individual trap, singing before it finally hit metal and flesh. It wasn't enough to kill or even maim, but it was sufficient enough to inflict yowls of pain.

Q grinned with every wail. He stopped grinning when Anna stepped out onto the terrace and glared at her fairy godfather, shaking her head as if in disappointment, her arms akimbo.

Q had many arguments and defenses against all sorts protests, except one – his Anna shaking her head at him.

"Whattt!" he demanded of the child.

"I thought you were clever," was her challenging answer.

And Q realized that Anna did not consider lightning bolts to be clever. It took him a moment, but he realized that his little Anna might be right. Lightning bolts from above were not that original when it came to tormenting souls. So, he stopped hurling them. As the screams died down, Q floated downward to stand by his fairy goddaughter.

"So, Anna, what?"

Anna smiled up at her fairy godfather, and floated up by herself, to kiss his cheek.

"Something icky, I think," the little girl suggested.

And Q thought for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers and sent Anna to the upstairs balcony. And then he grinned. Creatures usually trembled in terror when they saw that grin on a Q.

The mercs in the garden were held in individual force fields, unable to move a step in any direction. Most of them were already exhausted from trying to defeat each shield one step at a time. So, it didn't take long for Q to probe their individual little minds and fill each force field cage with whatever it was that each merc hated or feared the most. Surprisingly, spiders were at the top of the mercs' list, followed by a variety of vipers, and then Centauri biting ants whose sting as they bit was notorious about their planetary system as well as other worlds.

Now, those agonized screams of terror were forms of music to Q's ears.

And then Anna smiled.

"What?" Q hesitantly asked, for he had not been expecting such a smile.

"They've suffered enough, since they didn't kill my family or friends," Anna informed her godfather. "Perhaps something to soothe the pain?" The words sounded quite innocent. But what Q sensed from the child was not childlike at all. She had a different sort of vengeance in mind.

And Q approved of this heretofore undiscovered aspect of his goddaughter's personality, for now he was more than sure that someday Anna would grow up to be a Q.

"I have just the thing, your highness," Q informed his little angel. With that, Q waved his fingers about and disappeared.

It was barely a minute later when the words, "What's that smell?" would be first heard. And then repeated. And repeated. And repeated.

Gretchen stepped foot outside. "What?" she asked everyone in general as she followed the leader of the others on to the courtyard including Starfleet security, Mildred's special op forces, clean-up crews as well as Picard House staff; all gazed up into the early morning sky. And when Gretchen saw why they were looking up, she dropped her jaw.

For floating about her head were quite a few of the bad guys, presumably from the house, encased in what looked like clear, bubble form floating cells.

But it was what was inside of those floating cells that was causing everyone to drop their jaws. For whatever it was, it was dark green to black, in a semi-liquid form and covering the prisoners up to their necks unless the balloon rolled in the wind, which meant that the entrapped had to quickly figure out how to balance upright again in order to continue breathing. And those bubbles were emitting the sort of stench that one hopes after smelling it for the first time, to never, ever smell again.

Boothby slowly walked up to Gretchen who had just been joined by a stupefied Mildred as well. "Lovely day, isn't it ladies?" he cordially asked as his smile just kept getting broader and broader.

"You know what that smell is?" Mildred accurately guessed as she eyed the master groundskeeper who, in her opinion, really did know too much about where the admiralty skeletons were buried.

"Yep." Boothby nodded. And then he stayed silent, knowing that this might annoy Mildred.

"Spill," Mildred ordered.

"Oh, let me do the honors," Q cooed as he appeared by Gretchen's side, wearing a rather impressive pure white uniform that even Winston Holt Wiley might envy.

"What is it, Q?" Gretchen snapped. Her nerves had taken enough this dawn.

"Draconian dung," Q gleefully explained.

"The finest fertilizer this gardener has ever encountered from the oh-so-fertile world of Draconis III," Boothby quickly added. "But the dung is ever so expensive and difficult to find on Earth. You would not believe what a mere five kilos of the excrement costs." He jerked his head upward. "If I were to box up that stuff, I'd be willing to bet that selling it would raise enough to cover the entire fiscal year's budget for the gardens, orangeries, orchards, and roses." He sniffed the air again, and continued to smile.

Mildred eyed the pair of them in disbelief. "Q, you filled up the prisoner's shield cells with crap?" She was valiantly trying not to snigger herself at the thought of what Q had done. This was going to be a fun report to write up for her boss.

"That about sums it up," Q giggled. "The stinkiest crap in the Alpha Quadrant – excrement from the Draconis Dragons." He giggled some more. "It will take about one-hundred-and-fifty sonic showers to get the smell off of those prisoners. And a year from now on a hot and humid day, they will still smell its aroma in their dreams – and when they wake up."

"Impressive," Gretchen slowly nodded as she considered what Q had done with admiration. "I didn't know that you had it in you." She eyed Q. "And Kathryn didn't wish to be your friend, at first? Silly girl. I'll have a word with her."

"Thank you, Gretchen." Q chuckled. "Well, Kathryn's my friend, now. I hope. And once she gets what I've done, I sincerely hope that she will forgive me for not strictly following Starfleet recommended protocols."

"I don't think that there are any," Mildred muttered under her breath.

"Oh, Kathryn will forgive you as soon as she sees what the Draconis fertilizer does to the roses, not to mention all the Talaxian tomatoes that Jean-Luc ordered planted. I'll even let you cut as many roses as you wish, Q, if you permit me to show you where I wish for you to dump the dung when the prisoners are done with it," Boothby advised the Continuum member (for now).

Gretchen then added to the conversation, "Well, at least you didn't kill any of them," she paused, studied Q's face and then hesitantly asked, "did you?"

"Not yet, but your wish is my command," Q cheerfully answered.

"No, Q, much as I appreciate the thought, Starfleet needs to interrogate them to see if they are solely responsible for what has been happening to Kathryn and Jean-Luc." Gretchen just had to laugh. "What an inventive use of excrement, Q."

"You humans have a saying which I believe is … shit happens…" Q blushed. "It wasn't just my idea, Gretchen. I had help."

"Oh? From whom?"

"It was Anna who wanted the bad guys to experience something icky," Q nonchalantly explained. Though he seemed lighthearted about all of it, Gretchen did catch the undertone of concern over Anna in his voice. She caught his eye, and slightly nodded, acknowledging his concern.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Oh, Bokkie…"

Few on board the Enterprise would recognize their resident barkeep right now. Guinan's ever-changing in color, skin tight catsuit blended from flame red to killer black as a cloak of many colors swirled about her as she wandered the darkened corridors of Bok's ship, calling out Bok's name. She had scanned the ship first, and really was not worried about encountering any crew, since she'd counted only three life forms before she had materialized on board the Ferengi ship.

"Oh, Bokkie, Bokkie, come out, come out wherever you are…"

She didn't have to see it. She felt Bok's fear as she explored the rather impressively decorated ship.

She then finally had located Bok's two crewmen. They had locked themselves inside of the mess hall for Guinan's opening volley had been meant to terrorize the ship. She had succeeded. When she reached that room, Guinan spoke loud enough for the two alien males inside to hear, "Stay where you are, and do not interfere. If you do that, the ship is yours when I am done with Bok."

It took a moment, but a voice yelled through the door, "Whatever you want!"

"Please don't hurt us," a second voice pleaded.

"Good," Guinan chuckled to herself as she walked away. "Bokkie, Bokkie, Bokkie…," she called through the bulkheads. "It is time to pay for what you've done," she sing-sang down the corridors, in search of her Ferengi desperado. She did know where Bok was located. She just wanted to torment him a little more, before she got there. Then she would pursue more satisfying activities.

Guinan was normally not a vengeance-minded person. But Bok had it coming.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I'm keeping the admiral in a coma, Kathryn," Katherine Pulaski explained. "Contrary to his popular opinion, I do not normally wish for Jean-Luc Picard to experience pain when he is my patient." She grinned, as if to reassure her pregnant patient. "Once Jean-Luc is back to health, then that is another matter."

Kathryn wearily looked at her friend and physician and tried to summon up enough energy for a grin. "I am glad to hear that my husband will recover, especially since you barred me from going into emergency with him."

"Well, I am letting you stay in the same hospital room with your husband once Jean-Luc gets out of emergency, so that should count for something," Katherine countered.

"It does. I won't ask the admiralty review board for your head on a platter," the too-pregnant lady admiral responded.

Katherine laughed. "The best thing that I can say in my defense is that I did save Jean-Luc's life."

"And I am sure that my husband will bemoan the fact for years to come," Kathryn agreed, with a chuckle. For she knew that Jean-Luc was not going to be too excited over Katherine Pulaski saving his life.

Katherine rested again, against the raised back of the biobed. "And my baby? Are we going to proceed with the fetal transport tomorrow?"

"We can wait a day if you would like Jean-Luc to take part of the delivery," Katherine softly answered, as she nodded with sympathy toward her patient.

"I want my husband to be there," Kathryn whispered.

"I suppose that can be arranged."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Nice to meet you, Bok," Guinan cordially greeted the Ferengi as she found him. Guinan wasn't that surprised to have found Bok quivering inside of a bathroom located in the underbelly of the Ferengi ship.

"I'm DaiMon Bok!" Bok protested as he finally stood, still quivering from Guinan's extended glare. "How dare you board my ship without permission! Who are you?"

"I'm Guinan. And I am a friend of Jean-Luc Picard."

From somewhere, Bok found the strength to express his rage over the mention of that name. "The bastard who killed my son!"

"Wrong!"

Surprised at being told off, Bok yelled, "Picard murdered my son!"

"Your son died because he was greedy and stupid. That's not murder. And greedy and stupid is never a good combination, Bok. Jean-Luc Picard did not murder your son."

"My son was not stupid! He was smart!" Very smart!"

"Which is why he ambushed a ship that had almost twice the fire power of his own. That was indeed a smart tactical move, Bok."

"You lie! You defile my son's name!"

"Watch the video, Bok," Guinan advised. "If you actually comprehend what I am showing you, you will understand that what Jean-Luc Picard did was self-defense and not murder."

"What video?" Bok demanded to know.

A moment later ex-DaiMon Bok found himself in his own ready room, strapped across the chest to the back of his chair with his arms and legs attached by chains to his armchair.

"This record, Bok." Guinan coldly turned on the holovid.

A holographic video appeared directly in front of Bok. And Bok was forced to watch what lead to his son's death; he was compelled to watch all the wrong moves that his son had continually chosen to make - including the lucky shot that would destroy the Stargazer.

Ex-DaiMon Bok watched the holovid over and over and over again.

Guinan entered the ready room about seven hours later. Bok wasn't babbling incoherently – yet.

"Still watching the death of all of those innocent men and women that your son killed, Bok?" she politely asked.

"Please stop. Make it stop," the red-eyed Ferengi croaked.

"Oh, no. You have to keep watching. And when you're done, you will have to answer a little quiz about every mistake that your son made. Jean-Luc Picard did not force your son to make those mistakes, Bok. But as I said earlier, your son was a greedy, stupid fool."

Surprisingly, for the first time, Bok did not protest this pronouncement.

And Guinan began to suspect that her holovid 'persuasion' was beginning to work.

TBC


	58. Wakey, Wakey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gigi is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. I again apologize for the delays in posting. This time round I had some more health issues. And then I realized that I didn't want to go as a writer, where I was going. Since the last thing I wanted was writer's block, I had to go and reread the novel. I think I have found my way now, and I am sure that you will let me know if you approve or disapprove. (BEG)

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 58:

Wakey, Wakey

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Wakey, wakey."

Jean-Luc Picard was annoyed. First, he was in pain, and though it had diminished a bit, he still was feeling like he had been the pull toy in a targ tug-of-war-to-the- match.

Secondly, the voice that insisted that he 'wakey, wakey' was very aggravating. Annoying. He had a feeling that he would soon remember to whom the bothersome voice belonged, and that this knowledge would not be a pleasant revelation.

Thirdly, he knew that he was a Starfleet rear admiral. Absolutely no one should be saying 'wakey, wakey' to him in that tone of voice. He found it disrespectful to his person.

"Jean-Luc, if you do not open your eyelids at once, I will bestow upon your Kathryn every single piece of gossip about you that Data has commed to me via our subspace little chats through the years."

He grunted in response. For some reason, this knowledge was upsetting.

"Okay, I will tell Woody Nakamura all about you and Kathryn and her former First Officer Chuckles, and one admiral size fluffy big bed." She grinned. "As an aside, I rather like Q's nicknames for quite a few people here and at the Academy…" Her voice trailed off as she observed her patient moving.

This threat worked. Jean-Luc Picard opened his eyes, looked about what appeared to be a Starfleet Emergency medical bay, asked, "Is everyone all right?" She nodded. "Kathryn?"

"Fine for now," the woman answered when suddenly he heard two voices loudly squeal as they rushed in the room, "Auntie Kate! How is Papa?" in unison.

"Fine," he found the strength to answer as two children swiftly climbed onto his biobed.

"Oh, Papa," Anna sobbed. "I thought that we had lost you too. Your voice disappeared from my head. But now you are back."

"And that your Auntie Kate saved the day," a too-gleeful voice replied, as she comforted the child. "Maybe I should take a few battlefield refresher courses. I almost missed my target, yesterday."

The adrenalin kicked in. Jean-Luc was suddenly, really wide awake. And irritated. "I've been out almost a day?"

"Pretty close," Kate Pulaski answered as she automatically kept checking all the monitors and screens. "You are still recuperating, but if you're a really good boy and behave, I may let you go home in the morning."

Jean-Luc winced in pain even as he tried to comfort Billy Bob and Anna, pulling both of them into his embrace a bit stiffly. "I will be fine, children. I promise."

"That means that you must obey Auntie Kate," Billy Bob warned as he clutch-hugged his father again.

For a brief moment, he tried to ignore that pain to his back injuries as he spoke, "Unfortunately, that is true," Jean-Luc cautiously replied. He then looked at Katherine Pulaski and actually gave her a rueful smile. "Apparently I must atone for my sins."

"You sinned?" Billy Bob asked, surprised that his Papa could do such a thing.

"I made a mistake when I ran ahead of my team. That assassin would have had a much harder time shooting me if I had bothered to follow my own orders, training and team rules."

Katherine chuckled at this admission for it was a rare announcement, indeed. Then she just had to ask, "Care to know about your wife?"

"You said she was okay." He tensed. A sharp edge of fear colored the concern in his voice.

"Admiral Janeway is indeed fine. And she is waiting for her husband to get healed enough so that he can be by her side when she gives birth to your daughter. That's why the lady isn't here. I wouldn't let her out of bed. Amazingly, that admiral is obeying my instructions to the letter, for a change. Phrygian pigs are flying somewhere." Dr. Pulaski tried to non-verbally reassure her patient.

"I suppose that there is a first for everything," Jean-Luc cynically observed. And then he cautiously moved his body about, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bio-bed.

"You won't even ask," Katherine tightly observed, as she reached down and gave Jean-Luc an analgesic shot. "Typical, typical, idiot male."

Even as the pain relief flooded through his body, Jean-Luc seriously tried to decide what to say to Dr. Pulaski, for she had just insulted half the human race. Finally, he settled on, "Thank you."

Dr. Pulaski froze as her ears actually acknowledged that they had indeed heard an extraordinary phrase being uttered by one of her most difficult patients. "I won't press my luck and ask for what," she dryly remarked as she scanned Jean-Luc Picard yet one more time nodding to the other doctors that the situation was improving.

"You know, Kate, that if you keep saving Kathryn or myself, as often as you have been as of late, I might one day actually have to confess that I like you…," Jean-Luc Picard muttered as his eyes started to close. The medicine was doing what it was supposed to do. He drowsily added, "You might even be my friend…"

"Well, my twinnies, isn't this a day for surprises," a slightly stunned Dr. Pulaski admitted to her informally adopted niece and nephew.

Both children started to giggle. And Kathrine Pulaski found herself joining in with them.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I must push!" Kathryn Janeway informed her doctors in a very loud, screeching tone of voice that was most un-admiral-like.

"NO! Don't push!" both Dr. Nora Bolt and Katherine Pulaski simultaneously yelled back. In spite of the fact that both doctors had told her why she shouldn't try to give birth during a fetal transport, Kathryn Janeway was clearly not remembering the doctor's instruction during her labor.

"What?" a somewhat startled husband seated in a hover chair, asked at the foot of the maternity ward bio-bed.

Katherine Pulaski turned her head. "In a minute there won't be anything to push, and Kathryn could seriously damage internal muscles."

"Stay calm, Katie," Gretchen called out, stepping up next to Jean-Luc. "Stay calm," she kept repeating trying to soothe her daughter.

A second later Admiral Janeway was sedated, as Dr. Nora Bolt solved that pushing problem with a hypo.

"The baby?" Jean-Luc hesitantly asked since both doctors seemed to be very busy.

"Give us a few seconds, Jean-Luc," Katherine Pulaski barked. "We're just about to do the fetal transport."

A few moments later, after the doctors coo-cooed and softly directed their support staff, Jean-Luc's daughter was placed in his arms, wrapped in a peony pink blanket.

Shocking red tufts of hair, and a pair of the brightest blue eyes ever, greeted her papa, as the baby turned into his chest for his warmth. Though it was a new experience, the baby decided that she liked being held.

Jean-Luc was speechless as he beheld the newest member of his family, nestling into his arms.

She was perfect. Beautiful. And an unbidden memory of what Anna had looked like when she had been presented to the world for the first time rose in his thoughts. For this newborn looked almost exactly like Anna did when she had been born. It was as if Beverly could have been her mother.

Jean-Luc raised his eyed to look at Katherine, unable to say anything as waves of happiness, grief and longing all crashed and merged into his heart at the same time. He was overwhelmed by this moment.

Dr. Pulaski sympathetically whispered, understanding the source of Jean-Luc's angst, "Yes. I see the resemblance. No one will ever bring up the question about Anna and Gigi being sisters. It is obvious. This little lady is a very lucky, special baby."

"We will wake up Admiral Janeway in a few minutes," Dr. Bolt informed the somewhat subdued father. "Everything went well. Her blood pressure should be back to normal within days, on its own. Your wife will need a lot of rest, which I know is next to impossible in a house with a newborn." She looked over at Dr. Pulaski. "Should we keep Admiral Janeway for a few more days, here in the hospital? The daughter will need to be monitored in case there are complications from the nanoprobes and nanites for a few weeks at least."

"I've already made arrangements for that medical coverage at Picard House," Katherine informed both Admiral Picard as well as Dr. Bolt at the same time.

The EMH sniffed. Between Katherine Pulaski and Nora Bolt taking over everything, the Doctor was decidedly out of sorts for a photonic physician. "I made sure that Picard House is still a safer place for mother and daughter to be than the hospital, considering all of the things that have happened, recently."

Jean-Luc silently groaned over all the continuing complications of his life when he added the EMH's defensiveness to the list.

Ryllis stepped forward and held a straw attached to a glass, up to Admiral Picard's lips. "Drink," she suggested to the admiral.

"I'll have what he's having," Dr. Pulaski tartly added. "I was wondering when you were going to break out your Betazed magic potion, Ryll."

"I'll have one too," a voice joined in from the back of the room." Mildred stepped up a bit closer to the bio-bed. "I've got to make sure that I've got all the vids that Lwaxana and Guinan wanted otherwise there will be a Denebian hell to pay."

Both female doctors laughed as they recalled the day when the twins came into the world. (See "De-Tached: Story 5: Life with Beverly: At Last My Loves Have Come Along" if you wish to know more of that story.)

"Can't say I miss that lady's presence along with Mr. Homm and that damned gong," Ryllis observed as she went around handing out the Betazed special recipe drinks for all partied concerned with the celebration of the birth of a baby.

Jean-Luc looked up from his refill, directly at Ryllis. "The gonging isn't a Betazoid custom during birth?"

"Lwaxana's the only Betazed that I know who says that it is a tradition," Ryllis answered with a slight smile.

"Why, that bitch…", Katherine Pulaski started to complain.

"Why are you surprised?" Mildred countered. "Lwaxana's always been Queen bitch. If you take her on about this, you'll be just wasting your time. You know she is a force unto herself, never really bothering with us unimportant underlings…"

"Speaking of bothersome bitches…" Katherine Pulaski looked around. "You know what? There's no Q. He is not here." She glanced around some more, checking darkened corners. "That's not like him. He always likes to meddle especially when it comes to Kathryn Janeway, and now his new fairy goddaughter – he should be bothering us," she cynically observed.

"Anna made Uncle Q promise not to bother MommaKath until she was well enough to deal with him," Billy Bob informed all the adults from the back of the room.

"What?" Katherine squeaked, mid sips.

"What kind of dirt does that girl got on Q?" Mildred mused to herself, as she considered what Anna had succeeded in doing which few others had done before. Apparently, that little girl had found a way to influence Q on a continuing basis…

Kathryn moaned. All huddled round even as the EMH administered a minor dose of stimulant.

"Wakey, wakey," both Katherine and Dr. Joe said simultaneously to the lady on the bed.

Katherine sent the EMH a glare.

Kathryn opened up her eyes, thought about glaring at Dr. Pulaski, but instead whispered, "My baby…"

"Perfect," a masculine voice answered, as Jean-Luc carefully stretched to hand over his daughter to her mother, with a little assistance from Dr. Bolt. He moved closer to his wife in order to watch the miracle of his wife holding their daughter for the first time.

Mildred took some excellent holovids.

And in this unguarded moment, Kathryn revealed the love that she held for the father of her child as she kept glancing up at her husband and then down at her daughter, until Jean-Luc leaned over far enough so that he could nestle with both Gigi and Kathryn. Only a few times did she ever imagine Chakotay being there too.

After a few more minutes of snuggling, Kathryn raised her hand toward her mother. "Mom, come meet your newest grandchild."

Gretchen then did something unexpected but not exactly unsurprising. She burst into tears; she blubbered over her granddaughter, daughter and son-in-law. The past few weeks had been very stressful. And now, when it seemingly was all over, her nerves had reached their breaking point.

Billy Bob and Anna approached their grandmother. She clutched at them, ushering them close to the bed, as she sobbed, "Meet your new sister." Ryllis hugged the lady, as if to reassure her that she had all of their support.

Jean-Luc seconded that suggestion, as he opened up his free arm to usher the children closer. "Yes, come meet Gigi."

Both children were well-behaved, as they touched their baby sister's hand.

Anna giggled.

"What?" Kathryn quietly asked.

"Gigi likes us being around her. She doesn't understand what is happening, but she knows that she likes it. And us." Anna explained.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow.

Ryllis quickly interpreted that look, and rushed in with an explanation. "Anna has had a tentative connection with Gigi for a while now."

"And Billy Bob doesn't?" Jean-Luc just had to ask.

"Nope, Papa," Billy Bob chimed in. "Not like I do with Anna or you. I just sense things about Gigi. I don't know things." He stopped talking for a moment, and then he caught a hilarious (and loud) case of the giggles.

"What now?" his Papa patiently asked, for his son did have a tendency to go off on tangents, just like his mother used to do.

The boy laughingly answered, pointing at his baby sister. "She is G G. Me, I'm B B. And Anna is AAaaaaaaAAaaaaaa…," making his sister's name sound like a warning siren.

Anna bopped her brother – hard – on his upper arm.

And Gigi smiled.

"Oh, look!" the super-proud grandmother cried as she pointed at Gigi. "Billy Bob has made his sister smile! Her first official smile!"

Katherine Pulaski silenced the EMH with a mere look, before he started babbling about new born gas issues.

The EMH stepped up to Kathryn at the other side of the biobed. "Now, now, everyone. It's time for mother and daughter to get to know each other better."

"She's hungry," Anna observed.

"Colostrum," Gretchen knowingly whispered to Ryllis, about the advisability of the new born suckling the basic life-starting immuno-liquid from her mother's breast.

"I believe I do know something about that," Ryllis acerbically mentioned, as she started guiding the children away from Kathryn's bedside. "Let us let the new family get to know each other better, in privacy." She patted Billy Bob's shoulder as she firmly shoved the curious young boy toward the exit. It was obvious that he had some questions.

Gretchen came along side to help herd Billy Bob who had a tendency to unexpectedly dart away when he shouldn't.

"Come along, Billy Bob. I made caramel brownies," Gretchen advised the boy and his sister, who needed no herding.

"I made chocolate chip cookies!" Mildred countered as she caught up with them.

"Race you to the transporter!" was Billy Bob's response.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Q Junior sat on his invisible flying carpet, floating silently in a corner of the room where Kathryn, Jean-Luc and Gigi were bonding. He had preserved all the details for his Dad, as requested.

And as he observed the trio, he decided that one day he would give this human family business a try. He actually liked the idea of a mate and offspring.

TBC


	59. It's Wash Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lwaxana and Guinan have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to the end.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 59:

It's Wash Day

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"This is the captain speaking," the voice announced.

The preceptive listener would have guessed by the tone of the voice, that the news that this man was about to announce would be good news, for there definitely was that hint of a smile coloring the man's words.

The voice continued. "I am pleased to announce that Admiral Jean-Luc Picard and Admiral Kathryn Janeway have added a new member to their family - a bouncing baby girl named Gretchen Guinan Janeway Picard." The captain chuckled, before adding, "Personally, I was hoping for the girl to be christened Willhemina, but 'Guinan' is an acceptable substitute, I think, for the officers and crewmembers of this ship." Will glanced down at his padd. "I have been informed that a holo-message of congratulations is being assembled in Ten Forward and will be available for the next twenty hours for those who wish to say something, before it is sent to the probably too-proud parents. And that there will be the appropriate celebratory libation available, provided by our own beloved Ambassadress Lwaxana Troi, to help toast the newborn and her parents. All are welcome to participate." Will cleared his throat. "Within reason," he added somewhat sternly.

He turned to check with his officers on the bridge to see if there was anything that he had forgotten to say. Deanna shook her head, her shining dark colored curls bouncing about her shoulders, as if to indicate that there was nothing else.

"Well, enjoy yourself, within reason," he added again, as if to convey a silent warning to anyone thinking about over-indulging. "And as for the betting pool, Commander Data will post the winners, shortly. Riker, out."

"With the exception of my Mother," Deanna whispered into her husband's ear, standing next to him, "behaving herself. What is truly is the shocking part is that Mr. Homm still has cases of wine in stock."

"Too true," Data piped in, for he was hovering on the other side of the captain's chair.

Will raised an eyebrow. "And what can I do for you, Number One?"

"Madame Guinan is waiting in your ready room," the android quietly stated, leaning closer to his captain. "She requests a private audience with you." Data then took a step back.

"I am surprised that she came back from her galactical jaunt," Will muttered as he sent a quick glance over at his wife who shook her head in denial. Apparently, his wife did not know about the barkeep's return either. Will stood and turned toward his first officer. "Commander Data, you have the bridge." With that Will walked toward his ready room

A moment later he entered his office, and found Guinan standing by the aquarium, tapping the glass as if to get the lionfish's attention.

"That doesn't work," Will announced.

"I know. I just keep hoping that one day it will," Guinan countered before dropping a food pellet into the water which the uppity fish condescended to notice with a gulp. "That fish is more stubborn that Data's cat."

"Probably." Will walked around his desk and sat down, with a slight thump for emphasis, on the chair. "Well, this is a surprise, Guinan."

"A pleasant one, I hope," the lady remarked before she sat down in the chair opposite of the captain's chair.

"Your presence is always welcome on board the Enterprise," Will stated, somewhat gruffly as if her were annoyed by the lady's presence in spite of his greeting. "I was under the impression that Q and you were going to be galivanting about the universe before meeting the Enterprise when she reaches Sector One."

"Our missions went a bit more smoothly than we had expected them to go." Guinan turned her head to look at the stars for a moment. "Now, Q and I are doing clean-up."

"You're done and that's why you're back?"

"Not exactly, Will. I brought a guest with me when I came back, yesterday."

"Guinan, you were on this ship, yesterday, and no one told me?" Will was a little miffed at this bit of information.

"Will, when I wish people to know where I am, they know. When I don't, only Mr. Data might be able to tell. And he didn't notice my arrival this time. Q dropped me off. That's why," she patiently explained.

Will Riker still did not understand why Guinan had had this 'is-she there or isn't she there' arrangement with Jean-Luc Picard and Commander Data. He had learned to live with it. But that did not mean that this captain liked it.

"So, why are you here, Madam Guinan?" Will patiently asked with only a slight annoyed edge to his voice.

"I wish to place my guest is solitary confinement in your brig, with your permission."

"What?" Will slapped his palm against the top of his desk, rising out of his chair. "What the devil is going on?"

"My prisoner is ex-DaiMon Bok, Will." She spoke smoothly, calmly and soothingly, as if she knew how much she had perturbed the captain.

Will froze, before he finally had the wherewithal to ask, "What?"

"I captured Bok, Will. I need to get him safely back to Starfleet – without incident. That Ferengi has a few tales to tell so I am asking your permission to keep him here."

"And Q couldn't take him to Sector One?" Will tried not to sound too incredulous.

"Q couldn't, Will. As it is, there will probably be a Continuum contretemps over the fact that Q and I were even involved with capturing Bok and then daring to remove him from where the Continuum had placed him. Though technically, I did that subtraction all by myself with only a little assistance from Q." Guinan shook her head so that the tips of her tricorn dark grey hat trembled. "Though, I don't think that will matter too much to the Q."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Will Riker gawked at the sleeping prisoner. Though he was only acquainted with the holo-images that he had seen of the Ferengi, still, in the Ferengi's current condition, this small decrepit being with the limp earlobes hardly seemed like the Ferengi that had wreaked such havoc on Jean-Luc Picard's life. That he had been capable of taking so much from Jean-Luc, much less all of the other possibilities for which this Ferengi might be blamed for doing.

"Why is he unconscious?" Riker finally asked of his companion outside the solitary confinement cell barrier.

"Let's just say that after I was done questioning the Ferengi, Bok needed to get some rest." Guinan calmly looked into Riker's eyes. "I am El Aurian, Will. You don't ever want to get my dander up, for when you do," she glanced over at Bok, "that sometimes happens."

Riker nodded, silently appreciating her cut-throat attitude. "Does Bok need medical attention?"

"Eventually, Dr. Selar ought to take a look at him. I don't think I did too much physical damage. But Bok's pain will come when he realizes that he has lost his ship and its hold filled with a lot of latinum."

Will raised an eyebrow.

"Some of Bok's former crew gleefully assisted me in Bok's capture. I gave them his ship as their reward, Will."

"Won't that cause a problem if we get Bok to Federation Court?"

Guinan shrugged. "Where we were, Federation laws don't apply." On Will's questioning look she added, "Romulan rules did." She visibly trembled.

Will took a step back. "You were in Romulan territory?" There was a steely edge to his voice now.

"We were not in any recognized Romulan territory, Will. It was more like a chaos controlled by the Continuum. But there were Romulans there. And that could mean trouble for Beverly if that is where Bok's men had taken her when she disappeared." She turned to walk away.

"Guinan!" Will roared.

The lady stopped still, turned her head, and sweetly answered, "Wait until you read my report, Will, before you start your blustering. You'll have a lot of questions, then. And with some of the data that I brought back, maybe Mr. Data can make some sense of what I discovered." With that, the lady calmly walked out the solitary confinement cell's entranceway.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Guinan glanced around Lwaxana Troi's inner sanctum, in all its purple splendor. She inwardly shuddered as she asked herself once again, how she could be friends with a lady who had this kind of taste. It wasn't that she disliked the color purple. She just disliked the way that Lwaxana was using the color purple.

"I know what you are thinking," Lwaxana tartly remarked as she approached her splendiferous couch complete with its gold tassels, ornately curlicued arm roll rests, and overstuffed Briglodian down-filled cushions and pillows, all upholstered in purple silk with the occasional emerald green and gold accents.

Guinan nestled against the pillows. "And that is, Loxie?"

Only the best of Lwaxana's friends could ever get away with calling Lwaxana 'Loxie'.

"Whether or not I am going to pester you with that question you wouldn't answer the last time you were here," Lwaxana idly replied as she sat herself down with a flourish of her rust satin skirts. Then she waved her hand in Mr. Homm's direction. Mr. Homm dutifully approached bearing a tray with several wine goblets and quite a few more decanters.

After he served the ladies, Lwaxana waved Mr. Homm out of this room of her suite. The lady did not doubt that Mr. Homm would be listening behind the door to her bedroom, to her conversation with Guinan.

"Still cheating your poker playing customers?" Guinan asked with just a hint of curiosity.

"I have never cheated anyone, Guinan!" Lwaxana sharply retorted. "But, what Mr. Homm does with his time, is another matter entirely."

"Right. How else with the gullible learn not to be fleeced," Guinan politely agreed.

"Chitchatting about the gullibility of certain ship's personnel is not the reason as to why you are here, Guinan." Lwaxana leaned forward and patted Guinan's knee through her somber robes. "Give. What is really going on?"

"It's a mess, Loxie." Guinan sighed. "It's a mess I've been embroiled in for decades. And I can't even blame Q for my involvement. All I wanted to do was fix a few problems with the timeline, and then I met Jean-Luc, and after that, Q…" She drank a full goblet of brandy before continuing. "At first, I thought that Jean-Luc was the source of the timeline screw-ups. But by the time I realized that it was Beverly who was the nexus, Q had gotten involved, and what had started out as a mess turned into a holy hell of a mess. And then it got worse… much worse…" Guinan reached for another glass that Lwaxana had filled with something brown, drank that down, and then leaned back against the fluffy pillows and closed her eyes.

Lwaxana kept quiet as she let Guinan rest; she mulled over Guinan's words. Finally, Guinan stirred. "What could Beverly or Jean-Luc had done to make them the cause of this mess?" she quietly asked the lady.

"Jean-Luc is going to revoke Gigi's name once he finds out what I've done."

"Jean-Luc might get angry, but you're bringing him Bookie. That will mean a great deal to Jean-Luc, Guinan."

"Hadn't thought of 'Bookie'," Guinan mumbled. Then she sat up, took off her tricorn hat, and reached for another glass. This time, she only took a sip of the brandy before she placed the goblet back onto the tray. She eyed her friend, who was surprisingly, patiently waiting for her to speak. "Lwaxana, Jean-Luc and Beverly did nothing wrong at all. It was the Continuum who had screwed up the time line. In the Continuum's version, Jean-Luc and Beverly would barely know each other much less fall in love. They were only supposed to be 'acquaintances'."

"Well, that didn't happen," Lwaxana archly observed. "I sensed they were in love with each other, the first time I ever met them."

"Then why did you so blatantly chase after Captain Picard?" Guinan asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well, I thought that Beverly might get jealous of my chasing Jean-Luc. And if she didn't, then there was a very good chance that I might catch the goodly captain – if only for a little while. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep him, but the interim would have been a lot fun and sex." Lwaxana sighed. "I really wish that I'd have caught him back then."

"Lwaxana, consider yourself lucky that you didn't catch Jean-Luc. You don't want to know what I would have done to you if you had succeeded." Guinan pleasantly smiled. "Back then, I wasn't the 'sharing' kind of woman."

Lwaxana shuddered, realizing that Guinan meant what she'd said. "Be that as it may, I am happy with the man that I did capture, and I wouldn't have really considered Winnie a possibility if Beverly and Jean-Luc had not married each other."

Guinan silently groaned for this marriage between Lwaxana and Winston was another error for which she would shoulder the blame.

"So, getting back to your story, Guinan, why were Jean-Luc and Beverly trapped in this mess?"

"A few generations ago, Beverly had an ancestor, one of her great-great-great grandmothers, who had caught the eye of a Q. He romanced the lady, and along the way, gave her several children, about which the Continuum did not know. The 'Q' genes then were passed down for several generations. And along came Beverly. For some reason, the Q genes were strong in Beverly. And when she met Jean-Luc they were activated, if you will. Now, Q gene bearers instinctively search for other beings with the Q genes. So, that is why Jean-Luc and Beverly really were meant for each other. Though considering how Wesley turned out, I am sure that Beverly's first husband, Jack Crusher, must have had at least a few of the Q genes as well in order to attract Beverly to him."

"So, Jean-Luc and Beverly had sex. Why did that cause the Continuum kerfuffle?"

"The Continuum had plans for Beverly. She was supposed to do something – important. Jean-Luc got in the way of their plans." Guinan picked up her glass and finished it off before continuing. "I think Beverly's disappearance was part of the new plan that the Continuum had for Beverly."

"And they used ex-Dai-Mon Bok as their agent? I didn't know that the Continuum was completely bereft of common sense." Lwaxana didn't mind being sarcastic now and then. She slowly shook her head. "Poor Beverly. Her life was destroyed because of a Continuum snit?"

"Apparently, her relationship with Jean-Luc was just a hiccup to the Continuum." Guinan picked up a cut crystal decanter and poured herself some more of whatever it was that was in the decanter. "The Continuum sent her off to who-knows-where. I wasn't sure what was going on and neither was Q. But I did manage…" She abruptly stopped speaking and then reached for her goblet, drinking a great deal of the liquid with a few gulps.

"You did manage – what?" Lwaxana prodded.

Guinan looked about. "We need larger glasses," she informed her hostess.

Lwaxana smiled. "No problem." And then the lady actually stood herself, and went and got some high ball glasses as well as a bucket of ice. "Here we go," she cheerily announced as she placed the items down on the table.

She poured Guinan another stiff, tall drink. "So, what did you manage?" she politely asked, as she sat back down on the couch.

"Lwaxana, I truly do not know where they sent Beverly. But, I arranged for one of my sons to trail after her. My agent was one of my twins, Remy. His brother Romy was supposed to go with him as well, but he arrived late and lost the trail."

"And Remy found the trail?"

"Lwaxana, I haven't heard from my son in over five years. I just have to assume that he is wherever Beverly is, and is protecting her, as best he can."

Lwaxana picked up her goblet and took a small sip. She wasn't quite ready to move up to the larger glass, for she knew that Guinan could drink her under the table if she wished. This El Aurian was one of the few beings in the universe who could do so.

Lwaxana considered what Guinan had told her. "So, your real problem is Jean-Luc and what he is going to do to you once he realizes that you knew that Beverly was alive, all this time."

"Something like that," Guinan admitted. "I could have alleviated so much of his grief…"

"Then why didn't you?" Lwaxana snapped. "That man went through hell."

"I was not allowed to do so," Guinan whispered. "I knew that Jean-Luc was being monitored – and not by our Q."

"Since when do you follow orders?" Lwaxana argued.

"When if I choose to disobey those orders, Beverly would have disappeared forever as a portion of my punishment. The twins would have been taken by the Continuum to be 'properly' raised within the Continuum. And Jean-Luc would have been driven insane from all that they would have done to him." Guinan woefully gazed at Lwaxana. "I just couldn't risk it." She took another long sip of brandy before she explained, "The Continuum chose Beverly for some mission of which I was not privy. Or Q, for that matter. Or any of Q's friends, either. If either Q or myself interfered with the Continuum's plans, they would have elected to destroy Beverly than to do what we would consider the right thing to be. And I was told so by the Continuum in those exact words…"

"The Q are that petty?" Lwaxana whispered.

"Some of the Q feel that us bipedal, mortal beings are at best, amusing pests, or at worst, beings upon which they have the absolute right to use, abuse and experiment upon, at their whim. They consider you and I so far beneath their existence, that it is no great loss to the universe if we die, or cease to exist." Guinan stared into space for a moment. "There are Q who have actually destroyed galaxies on a whim…" She looked over to Lwaxana. "Some of the Q permit the Borg to exist because they like watching what the Borg do to planets and people…"

There was silence for a while as both ladies drank a bit more. Finally, Lwaxana spoke up. "And what is Q's role in all this?"

"Again, Jean-Luc is to blame. When our Q met Jean-Luc, Q became fascinated by a being that was not playing according to the Continuum's rules of behavior for mortal, bi-pedal beings. Q started studying Jean-Luc. And the more he learned of the man, the more fascinated he became. Etc., etc., etc. Now, they are friends." She finished off her latest brandy. "At best, the Continuum is being tolerant of Q. But if he crosses and/or annoys them, the consequences could be deadly."

"Sounds like the Continuum needs a change of management."

"Q actually tried that, a while back, Lwaxana, when the Q had their Civil War. Kathryn Janeway had a part in resolving that, which surprisingly convinced a few of the Q that maybe our Q might be in the right. But in the long run…"

They were quiet again, for a while before Lwaxana spoke up again. "Well, you are going to have to come up with a helluva explanation and apology for Jean-Luc. I'll help you create one. We will start with the return of ex-Dai-Mon Bok…" Lwaxana took a long drink of her brandy before adding, "And then you can tell me the rest of the tale…"

TBC


	60. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn and Seven of Nine have a conversation.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 60:

Coming to Terms

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn stopped dead in her tracks as she started to slide open the Picard House library pocket doors. The last thing that she had expected to see on the day that she had returned home from the hospital with her daughter and her husband, was to observe her mother pouring cups of tea for guests seated around the sturdy Arts and Crafts octagonal parlor table. Gretchen's guests were Chakotay, and the woman who was holding Kol on her lap; Kol's mother and Chakotay's ex-wife – Annika Hanson.

Gretchen looked up at the noise of the sliding door, and directed a charming smile in her daughter's direction.

Kathryn recognized that particular smile, for her mother had used it on her and Phoebe many times, over the years. It basically was a royal command from her mother to 'behave'. Cautiously, the lady who had bested the Delta Quadrant but was still afraid of a 'look' from her mother, entered the library.

"Annika." Kathryn formally greeted her former shipmate. The tone of her voice revealed not a smidgeon of Kathryn's roiling emotions. Kathryn took the empty place next to Chakotay, glanced at Chakotay quickly to see if he was all right even as she surreptiously inspected her former Seven of Nine. The former Borg looked a bit healthier and more relaxed than the last time Kathryn had seen her. In short, Annika looked normal, like the former Borg that she had been on board Voyager.

"Kathryn," Gretchen somewhat loudly stated in order to catch her daughter's attention.

Startled, the daughter glanced over at her mother. "Mother?"

"Where is my granddaughter?" the lady somewhat forcefully questioned in spite of the fact that she was still broadly smiling.

"Up in the nursery. I have nursed her, and then she fell asleep." She glanced over at Chakotay with a questioning look. "I then went to change. That is when you must have come up to get Kol."

Chakotay hesitated a moment. "Actually…"

Kathryn continued. "I hope that you used the elevator…"

"I took my son," Annika abruptly interrupted their conversation. "Your daughter is a notable example of a newborn baby with a high decibellic range. I noted that she has as impressive a set of lungs as her mother does."

Kathryn blinked as she analyzed this pronouncement from her former Borg.

Gretchen wisely stepped in to fill in the awkwardness. "My granddaughter can out-yell the best of them."

"Precisely, the best of what?" Annika politely asked.

Exasperated, Gretchen sent Kathryn a questioning look as if to ask if the former Borg was serious.

Chakotay suddenly startled chuckling. "It seems that Annika is acquiring a Vulcan sense of humor. I think she's been hanging around Tuvok and T'Pel too much."

Seizing upon Chakotay's opening, Kathryn quickly pronounced with a smile, "Indeed Annika has. That's just the sort of so-called innocent question Tuvok would ask with amusing intent."

Annika nodded, with just a slightly sly smile on her lips.

Kathryn studied Annika's expression, internally relaxing. "And just how is Tuvok? He dutifully sends me messages, but they are so dull, in his stultifying, standard Vulcan style, that I still am not sure as to how exactly, his recovery is really going."

"The Commander was in excellent health when I last saw him," Annika calmly stated, "even though I had just beat him at Kal-toh for the fourth time."

"Fourth time? Impressive but not unpredictable," mumbled Chakotay almost to himself.

"He was stoic?" Kathryn quizzed. "Tuvok didn't bat an eyelash?"

Annika nodded. "I observed no such movement."

Chakotay laughed out loud. "You got to him, Annika. Tuvok only dons his rational Vulcan armor when he is feeling some sort of unpleasant emotion." Chakotay then picked up his tea cup and drank for a moment, appreciating the fact that Gretchen had ordered one of his favorite spice tea blends.

"When Tuvok goes into his uber-Vulcan stoic mode, that is when you know you have gotten to him." Kathryn broadly smiled. "Impressive, Annika. In all the years that I've known Tuvok, I only got him to that level of stoicism about nine times in over thirteen years."

"Then putting Commander Tuvok into such a state is an accomplishment?" a somewhat puzzled Annika asked. "I do not understand what being 'gotten' is all about."

"It means that Tuvok considers you to be a friend," Kathryn explained.

"It wasn't until our last year on Voyager that Tuvok sort-of started doing that to me," Chakotay added even as he handed Gretchen his empty cup and saucer for a refill and then nodded his thanks for her courtesy. He also didn't mind helping himself to a chocolate chip cookie sans nuts which he was sure that Mildred - not Gretchen – made. He would have been wrong about the baker though, if he had bothered to inquire.

"I thought that you and Tuvok had reached an understanding before then?" Kathryn queried her former first officer even as she finally accepted a cup of tea from her mother. For she had never noticed any major discord between her two officers, and certainly Chakotay or Tuvok, had never mentioned anything amiss.

"We did learn to understand each other, Kathryn," Chakotay answered as he took back his son from his mother and chuckled down at his son, moving his shoulders now, back and forth in a comforting rhythm. "And we worked well together. But, it took a long time for Tuvok to start to consider me a friend as well as a colleague. I am afraid that I still had some left-over resentment from Tuvok's spying days during the early years of our voyage."

Gretchen's tea cup rattled against the bone china saucer. She put it down on the tea table. "Tuvok was a spy? How is that possible? That Vulcan cannot tell a lie at all to save his soul. He is lousy at it."

"Oh, Tuvok can lie when necessary," Chakotay assured the lady without explanation.

"It's a long story, Mother," Kathryn politely stated, giving her mother the 'look' that told the lady that now was not the time to meddle with classified, ancient Star Fleet business. Kathryn had learned how to do that 'look' from her father.

The lady recognized this warning, and slightly nodded her chin as if to indicate that she understood, but did not like it all. "I guess I'll just have to talk to T'Pel, Gretchen muttered to herself.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"What are you doing here?" Kathryn softly asked, as she walked down the hallway with Annika, toward the nursery.

"I wished to see my son," Annika coolly answered, as she strode, holding her son, glancing down at him almost every other second to see if the baby was all right; or if her Borg walk movement were upsetting Kolopak.

Kathryn noticed Annika's attention toward her son. "He is well, as you can see."

"Considering the events of the past few weeks, you can understand my perturbation," Annika quickly answered back. "If Kolopak had been with me on Vulcan, he would not have been put in danger."

Kathryn's irritation started to rise. "Well, you are the mother that abandoned him here. I don't know where else you would have expected me to put Kol. Chakotay and I have tried to be loving parents to him since then."

"And Admiral Picard?" the former Borg countered as if she were making some point.

Kathryn suddenly smiled. "Actually, Jean-Luc likes to play peek-a-boo with Kol. He started the practice when Chakotay first came here to recuperate, and even going so far as to have Phryne incorporate the game's motions into your ex-husband's exercise regimen. Apparently Chakotay's people didn't play peek-a-boo around newborns." She took a breath, and added, "Phryne is…"

"My husband's therapist." Annika finished Kathryn's sentence, which was something that Annika knew always did annoy her former captain.

"Ex-husband" Kathryn politely snarked back. "You left Chakotay, I believe."

"It was the only thing I could do at the time," Annika responded, as together, they both entered the nursery. "It was for their benefit." Annika glanced around the redecorated room, noting

"Chakotay did not view it that way," Kathryn refuted for she was quite willing to discuss this topic some more.

Ryllis came to them with a shush and whispered, "Gigi is sound asleep." She took the boy out of Annika's arms. "Let's see if we can get this wee one to join her."

"I want my son to be raised with in a strict regimen," Annika announced in a somewhat sharp sound for a whisper.

"I can assure you that Ryllis and I will keep our children on a strict and loving regimen," Kathryn softly but firmly answered back.

"I can send you a schedule," Ryllis added even as she carefully put the dozing boy to bed in his crib.

"Please do," Annika replied.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"So, why did you really come back?" Kathryn asked of Seven of Nine in her best 'you'd better answer me' captain's voice.

Annika eyed her former captain, was aware that the woman was trying to intimidated her, and then she casually looked around as if to delay her answer. The women were sitting on the terrace by the breakfast room. Annika made note of the beautiful view of the gardens, then pointedly asked, "Is this where Q captured the attack force with excrement?"

Kathryn smiled, understanding Annika's tactics too. "Yes, this is where Q encased the invaders in dragon dung."

Annika ran her finger over the top of the marble balustrade and then inspected her finger pad for any trace of manure. "That must have made a mess."

"But after it was cleaned up, I will now have the most beautiful roses and bountiful vegetables in a few months," Kathryn observed before she started to drink the egg custard smoothie that her new chef had silently slipped onto the side table by her chair.

Annika duly noted the excessive attractiveness of the servant who had offered her some sort of fruit smoothie, and then dismissed the man with, "I do not require any nutritional supplements at this time."

Then Annika turned back to speak with her former captain. "I wished to ascertain the condition of my husband."

"He is your ex-husband. Remember that you divorced him?" was Kathryn's cool response.

Annika was not totally oblivious to the edge in her former captain's voice. "Just because I am no longer married to Chakotay does not mean that I have ceased to care about his welfare. After all, Chakotay and I will be connected to each other as long as we have Kolopak."

"So, you are just a concerned friend now?" Kathryn too-politely asked.

Annika rose from her chair, and took a step over to the balustrade, as if she wished to view the gardens some more. "Always more than that," Seven dutifully answered. "At least my first love is a good man." She sent a meaningful look over her shoulder to Kathryn as she saw the lady stiffen in disbelief. "Your mother," Annika added lest she think that Chakotay had been telling tales.

"I will have to have a little talk with my mother," Kathryn mumbled as she stood to join Annika. She faced the garden, placed both hands flat down on the marble and turned her head to stare at Annika. Then she spoke most forcefully, as if to convince herself as well as Seven. "Annika, I love Chakotay. I have for years. Surely this cannot come as a shock to you."

"I was aware of your attachment to Chakotay as well as his response." She stared back at Kathryn just as forcefully. "And your husband, Admiral Jean-Luc Picard?"

"Jean-Luc understands the situation. In fact, he approves. We are planning a Denobulan style marriage," Kathryn announced perhaps with a very slight trace of triumph coloring her voice. For Annika had hurt her deeply during the first months of her marriage to Chakotay. Kathryn might have forgiven her but she was still wounded from the Borg's behavior especially after Annika had become pregnant. "The three of us will be married in a few weeks. There really are legal benefits to this arrangement."

Annika slowly nodded as she considered this situation. "Your actions are logical. I approve of the legal considerations. And Kolopak will benefit from your guidance as well as Gretchen's s'mothering." Then she straightened out the skirt of the beige dress that she was wearing and nodded, as if she had just decided something. "It is set, then."

Confused, Kathryn asked, "What is?"

"The Admiral, Chakotay and you have made Kolopak part of your family unit. It is what I had hoped that you would do since I am not capable of maintaining my own family unit right now. I can now go back to Vulcan with peace-of-mind, but I will return on a regular basis to visit my son. And when he is old enough, I will bring him to Vulcan for visits."

Somewhat surprised by all that Annika had announced, Kathryn gathered her wits about her as she asked, "You planned all of this?"

"Of course. I knew that I could not cope with either Chakotay or Kolopak with my uncontrolled emotional instability. I needed Vulcan guidance to help me obtain a balance with all of my issues. I then decided that you should be the one to help resolve the family issues."

Exasperated, Kathryn argued, "And you didn't think to ask?"

"If I had, Chakotay would have manufactured illogical arguments as to why we should have stayed married. You understand the nature of Chakotay's sense of honor. Chakotay would have vehemently protested my decisions. He would not have wished to let me leave."

"True, that is was Chakotay would have done if he had been awake when you left," Kathryn reluctantly agreed.

Annika took a step closer to Kathryn. "Kathryn, I am not so heartless as not to know that divorcing a husband who had just been seriously injured was not the socially acceptable thing to do. But at the time, I could not devise any other optimal solution. I consulted T'Pel and she did agree with me that my abrupt departure was the best solution for a difficult situation. It was the most logical course."

"Couldn't you have come to me, Annika? I would have anything within my power to have helped you." Kathryn stood and grasped Annika's hands.

"And you would once again have sacrificed yourself because you would have decided was best for Chakotay without even consulting him." She shook her head with enough force that a few of her golden blond tendrils fell free. "Don't you see? You are what is best for Chakotay! I knew that, years ago. But when I thought that I was in love with him, I was foolish enough to think that I could change Chakotay's heart. That I could beat the great Kathryn Janeway and win the heart of the man that she wanted." Annika looked away for a moment, closed her eyes for a second and then added, speaking slowly with heart-breaking insistence, "Now, I have logically deduced that I have made a selfish mistake. Something for which I will pay for a long time to come. But I have corrected it. I accept that one day you will forgive me."

Kathryn sighed, sensing the deep, swirling emotions that still swirled beneath the surface of the Borg that she had rescued and tried to guide into rediscovering the humanity of her soul. "Of course. Oh, Annika… What I have done to you. I should have been a better friend and mentor…"

Annika tightly hugged the woman, as if to quiet her protests; this woman who had tried to befriend her like a mother even as Kathryn squirmed a bit in her embrace.

Annika confessed, "I made these mistakes all by myself, Kathryn. I have since spent much time talking and listening to your mother. She has been helping me to know my own heart. And with the way Gretchen has come to love my son, I know that I am finally on the correct path to find my own peace." She stepped back from Kathryn's embrace. "It is time that I come to terms with who and what I am, Kathryn. I will accomplish this on Vulcan. But, Starfleet has asked me to assist with some of the Voyager data, so I will be returning to Earth on a regular basis."

"You'd better plan on staying here with us when you come," Kathryn warned, even as her voice cracked from emotion.

"I would consider that to be an honor, Kathryn," as Annika herself tried to disguise the fact that she needed to wipe away an impending tear. "And I wish you and Admiral Picard and Chakotay all the best. I will tell Chakotay this when I say goodbye to him." With that, she reached over and kissed Kathryn's cheek, and then Annika Hanson walked swiftly away.

Kathryn Janeway also had to wipe a tear off of her cheek, as she watched Seven of Nine leave.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Annika." His voice was soft, but it sounded as if it was filled with sadness too. He watched his former wife wander among the flowers, idly thinking about how beautiful she looked standing amongst the exotic blooms.

"Chakotay…"

Annika continued looking about the interior of the orchid house, filled with amazing and beautiful blooms of many flowers in a multitude of colors, that filled the room with delicate perfumes. Then she spoke. "Tuvok told me that he had sent to Admiral Picard some of the offshoots from his hybrid orchids. I just wished to see those from Voyager, Chakotay."

Chakotay slowly walked up to his ex-wife. "Unfortunately, the Talaxian-Vulcan hybrid that played havoc with Tuvok and Neelix turning them into Tuvix, is not here. Star Fleet biologists have it under protection, in stasis at one of their labs." He clasped Annika's hand. "Your fingers are cold."

"And yet these rooms are so warm and humid," Annika tried to tease. She didn't really succeed.

"I know, Annika, I know," Chakotay whispered his heart filled with compassion, as if he did understand why Annika had asked him to meet her here. "I truly do understand why you did what you did. And I forgive you…"

Tears started to roll down Annika cheeks at these words. She faced the man to whom she had once been married.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," she confessed.

Chakotay reached up and with both hands, cupped her face and wiped away her tears.

"We both were at fault, Annika. I kept pushing you about the baby and our marriage. I wasn't fair to you…"

For a long moment there was silence between them as the former lovers each gazed at each other, remembering their time together; what they had briefly meant to each other, the good times, the arguments, and all that they now wished that they could have changed. But the moment eventually faded away.

Annika confessed, "But I pushed as well, Chakotay. We should have never married, for there is much that I regret. But I find that I can never regret having our son."

"Oh, Annika…" Chakotay bent his head and gently kissed Annika's forehead.

With a start, Annika raised her face and then bestowed on Chakotay's lips a soft kiss. It was her good-bye gesture. Then she stepped out of his arms as a former lover, for the last time.

"I wish you well, Chakotay. I hope that your marriage to Kathryn brings you the happiness, love and peace that you truly do deserve…"

And then she left him.

TBC


	61. Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Riker is getting ready for his return to Utopia Planitia.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 61

Report

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Worf sat at the work station in his office, examined the notes of the score that was displayed on his screen, tapped a button, watched the security program alter the notes on the screen, ordered the computer to display the original music score that now had woven within its elements the disguised message from the program that Mr. Data and Geordi had devised, and then said, "Computer. Play music."

The Klingon dutifully listened to a passage from the Passacaglia in D.

The Klingon harrumphed.

Wesley looked up from the padd that he was reading on Worf's couch. "Don't tell me that you don't like the music that we chose, Mr. Worf."

"The composer's name – Dietrich Buxtehude - it sounds like the name of a warrior who has won many glorious battles. But this…" Worf waved his hand toward the screen. "…it is a piece of Earth music that a Vulcan would prefer to listen to…" The way Worf said it, his opinion of the music choice of a Vulcan was clearly not complimentary.

"He was a Baroque era composer who was a great influence on Johan Sebastian Bach," Wesley helpfully explained even as he gave Mr. Worf a silent kudo for pronouncing the composer's name correctly.

This meant little to Mr. Worf. "But why have an organ piece rescored into a woodwind quartet composition? Especially as it is performed by Romulan ex-patriots, Vulcan and Bolian musicians on their traditional instruments?"

"It's what Jean-Luc requested," Wesley reminded his friend. "Besides, this particular combination of musicians and some native instruments seems to factor into the program that Data and Geordi have created. They said that it will be nearly impossible for Data to crack the code once it is encoded, much less anyone else succeeding."

"I do not understand," Worf grumbled.

"For some reason, Jean-Luc wants us to create secure pathway of communication above and beyond Star Fleet precautions, amongst ourselves," Wesley blithely answered as his attention returned to the data on his padd.

Worf pondered Wesley's words even as he again went over every iota of data on his screen.

"I think I understand," he finally grumbled, out loud.

"Understand, what?" Wesley asked without removing his nose from his padd.

"What the admiral is plotting." Worf looked over at Wesley. "There must be something from the data that Admiral Picard has received from those who attacked Picard House that has made the Admiral very cautious. And suspicious."

Wesley put down his padd. "I'd be surprised if there weren't, Worf."

"I agree." Worf fingered the badges on his sash. "Whatever is going on, it is growing bigger…" He stepped away from his console. "We must be prepared."

"Which is exactly what we are doing," Wesley quietly answered.

Worf came over to Wesley. "What does Lwaxana say about all of this?"

Wesley paused, considering Worf's question. "You know, the lady has been very quiet lately. She has barely said an outrageous word over the past few days."

"I had noticed," Worf stated. "It is… unlike Lwaxana Troi to be untalkative. That is not her nature." He looked back over his shoulder at his computer screen. "It is worrisome…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain William Riker leaned against his desk chair back and closed his eyes for just a minute. He was trying to coordinate all of the reports of everything that had happened during this latest mission of the Enterprise 1701-D. It was a daunting task because there were various reports to a variety of science committees, a general overall report for the brass, a more detailed tactical report for the top-secret brass, and then an all-encompassing report for the Star Fleet Admiral, Winston Holt Wiley. After that, there was his personal report for Jean-Luc Picard; one with and one without references to Beverly, since Will did not know when Wiley wanted to tell Jean-Luc everything.

All of these reports were really giving him a headache. And he had yet to incorporate all of the detailed graphs, summaries and explanations that Commander Data had composed; for Mr. Data was most thorough in such things.

Add to that there were Ambassador's Lwaxana Troi's reports to be read. And finally, the new reports concerning the capture and arrival of ex-DaiMon Bok on board his ship and lodged in his brig, that had just landed on his desk.

The captain of the Enterprise was tired. And that didn't count all the hours of sleep that he wasn't getting because his daughter was teething, and Deanna refused to use her mother's special teething recipe which included 100 proof bourbon as well as a variety of other liquors, to soothe their daughter's sore gums.

That minute when he had closed his eyes extended past thirty minutes until he finally heard the alarm that was pinging on his desk. Stretching his arms above his head, he wearily pried open his eyes, and tried to remember just exactly why he had set that alarm for himself. And then it hit him – another staff meeting to which he was already a few minutes late.

Shoving against his desk, he pushed himself up and walked out into the corridor and down the length of it to the senior officer's conference lounge. Usually the sight of the stars rushing past the panoramic view windows was sufficient enough of a stimulus to gladden his heart; just not this afternoon. They were only seventy-one hours, give or take a minute, away from docking at Utopia Planetia. And the captain of the Enterprise did not have enough time to finish everything that he had to do, much less time to attend a meeting. To add to his joy, Lwaxana Troi was sitting in his chair.

"Kestra still teething?" Lwaxana innocently asked of her son-in-law.

"You know she is," Deanna sharply answered, for she was rather on the sleep-deprived side too. Even though she was technically still on maternity leave, she was handling her leave like her husband was managing his paternity leave. They just simply couldn't do a leave right now. There was too much to be done.

Dr. Selar studied both of the new parents. "Captain Riker," she called out.

Captain Riker shoved Lwaxana's chair over about a meter, and then rolled a substitute captain's chair in front his table position. He ignored the squawks coming from his right, as he sat down and politely said, "Yes, Doctor?"

"I have a teething medicine that should be effective if little Kestra is still keeping you up at night. I had not known that human-Betazed babies teethed sooner than human babies."

"I could have told you that," a voice to the right of the captain grumbled.

Dr. Selar ignored the interruption. "And Ambassadress Troi was kind enough to give me her old family teething recipe, and after analyzing it and making a few slight alterations for the safety of the baby of course, I believe that the teething medicine will work."

Lwaxana beamed a smiled of victory in her daughter's direction.

Captain Riker had reached the point where he was desperate enough to try anything – even Lwaxana's potent potion. "Thank you, Dr. Selar. We'll try it tonight." He glanced about the table. "Any other business?"

Apparently, Captain Riker had forgotten that the formal meeting hadn't even started yet.

Of course, Commander Data solved this little issue, by standing, and giving everyone in the room, a report on the results of further examination of the Ferengi ship, the drive, the star charts, and anything else that he could drone on long enough to try to put Lwaxana Troi to sleep.

"Anything else?" Riker slowly asked as if he were silently warning his officers that the next person who spoke had better be talking about something of 'red alert' importance.

"Actually, yes." Dr. Selar stood, glanced pointedly at her captain and then the Senior Counselor. "Get some sleep. You are supposed to be on leave."

"I can't," Will answered back, finding a little energy from somewhere in order to get angry at the doctor."

"One word – and it's an order from your CMO, Will," Dr. Selar sternly warned.

"What?"

"Delegate." She glanced at everyone in the room. "We all volunteer, don't we, to help."

No one was foolish enough to contradict the CMO. After all, she controlled what kind of physical they would get when the time came.

Deanna slowly stood. "Understood, Dr. Selar." She turned to her right to face her mother across the table. "Mother, stop endlessly rewriting your reports. Eliminate all descriptions of your ensembles, your choice of designers and when they were born, jewelry and choice of wines, or how you think that you eat like a Jancarian hummingbird. Eradicate any excessive descriptions of people, places or things that have nothing to do with the Grand Nagus or his entourage. And then just pick one report. Reread it. And then turn it over to the captain before you get another urge to do a rewrite of the great Betazed novel."

"But, Deanna. I have to have reports for the general council, the legal counsel, the in-house Ferengi Affairs sub-committee, the Betazed sub-committees, and finally my husband, just to name a few. And they like my details. They praise my reports for their colorfulness."

"Let Mr. Homm make them less 'colorful'. Then pick the same report for all of them and be done with it!" Deanna snapped.

The Captain of the Enterprise started chuckling.

"What?" mother and daughter yelled together at their captain.

"Save the fashion and wine report, etc., for Admiral Wiley, Lwaxana," Will suggested. "I think he enjoys the colorful report very much."

"Why, Willie," Lwaxana preened. "You're beginning to think like an admiral. I predict great things in your future, Captain Riker." She coyly batted her eyelashes, though Will was too tired to actually notice. "After all, you are my son-in-law. An admiral's bars are the least that I expect of you in the future."

Will Riker was not so tired that he didn't duly note that unintentional warning from his mother-in-law.

Deanna mentally groaned, for unlike the rest of the people in the room who thought that Lwaxana was teasing her son-in-law, Deanna knew better. Based on the glint in her husband's eye, Deanna suspected that he had caught on to her mother's intentions for his future advancement as well. She sighed. Would life ever be simple with her Mother?...

Geordi stood and cleared his throat. "Uh, Captain, let me summarize and concisely revise all of my reports. I guess you don't need hourly updates." Then he stepped next to Commander Data, "I can do Commander Data's reports as well. I mean, I know that some of my reports were a little wordy, but we discovered so much…"

Data quickly nodded feeling a little lost at sea as he theorized the possibility of Captain Riker, and maybe even Captain Picard having to redo his reports before they were submitted to Starfleet. "Thank you, Geordi. I would appreciate your assistance."

"I can do a report on the findings from the Nagus' yacht," Dr. Selar suggested. "I have found evidence of eleven different species having been on that yacht aside from the Ferengi."

By the time the meeting was over, more than forty percent of Captain Riker's reports were being handled by his senior officers. Of course, Will Riker would have to read them again, but suddenly, his schedule actually appeared to have opened up at least eight hours of sleep for him. Of course, the eight hours was scattered over almost three days, but still, it was more down time that he had recently had.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"You'll be a rear admiral, sooner than you know," Lwaxana advised her son-in-law, as she watched him skillfully change his daughter's diaper. She had draped her scarlet dress's flaring skirt over the entirety of the sofa in the captain's quarters, before she had put her feet up.

Will looked up from the changing table as he was using a baby cleaning scanner on his daughter's bottom. "I thought that grandmothers were supposed to love doing this sort of thing for their first-born grandchild." He glanced down at Kestra who was trying to pull out every hair that she could reach of her daddy's beard.

"I'm not that kind of 'grandma'," Lwaxana summarily informed her son-in-law. "I will only change diapers, when the baby and I have no other choice."

"And then you will summon Mr. Homm," Deanna suggested as she walked into the captain's living room, carrying a onesie for her daughter.

"I would not!" Lwaxana protested.

"Right," Deanna whispered to husband as she joined him.

"Mr. Homm knows how to change diapers?" he whispered to his wife.

"Of course, he does," Lwaxana somewhat forcefully stated not bothering to disguise the fact that she was reading minds. "Why, he changed Deanna's diapers…"

"Mr. Homm was around when my father was alive?" Deanna was surprised by her mother's words.

"Well, Ian sent Mr. Homm away for a while. But then, when I desperately needed Mr. Homm, he came back…" Lwaxana whispered.

"Why did my Father send Mr. Homm away?"

"Oh, it wasn't what you're thinking, Deanna. Ian wasn't jealous. It's just that Ian thought that I ordered Mr. Homm to do too many things that Ian thought that I should really be doing instead of Mr. Homm…"

"Like changing diapers?" Deanna suggested as she stuffed squirming limbs into her onesie.

"Something like that." Lwaxana was somewhat reluctant to admit to this.

"Oh, my Little One, my Little One," Deanna murmured as she pressed the fasteners shut, and then raised her daughter up above her head and giggled along with the baby. Then she handed her daughter over to her husband, after which she folded up the portable changing table and put it away. "Please put Kestra to bed, Will. I need to have a little talk with my Mother…"

Will gladly accepted this task sensing some mother-daughter discord which he was not inclined to witness. He tried to get Kestra in a lift to 'fly' her into the nursery, but Kestra was in love with her father's beard and just simply wouldn't let go of it. "As you wish, my princess," was heard as Will left the room between baby induced tugs and involuntary grunts and 'ows'.

"What?" Lwaxana warily asked as she poured a large Aldebaran whiskey for herself, and a short shot of the whiskey into a sherry glass for Deanna from one of the decanters that were on a low table side table next to where Lwaxana had been reclining.

"Will doesn't want to be a rear admiral, Mother," Deanna informed her mother with a very pleasant-sounding tone of voice.

"But your husband has to think about the future! His daughter's future, to be precise. Regardless of the friendship, children of admirals do not play or grow up with children of captains, Deanna. However will we get Kestra thrown into crossing William's path, if Will doesn't seek a promotion?"

"Mother." Deanna deeply sighed. "First, my husband will not become a rear admiral until I convince him that becoming an admiral is a good idea, and that he thought of it first."

"Oh, good. You're not opposed to being an admiral's wife," Lwaxana sighed with obvious relief. She brightened. "And you're learning how to train Will!"

"Mother, I would never dream of training my husband," Deanna said with a very innocent tone of voice, and with a very slight Betazed cat's smile on her lips.

After overcoming her shock, and studying her daughter a little bit, Lwaxana approved of her daughter's wisdom. After all, she learned it from her mother.

"Secondly, Mother, do not push Kestra into Billy Bob's 'path' as you call it. Jean-Luc and Kathryn are not fools. They will quickly figure out what you are trying to do. Our children are much too young for you to play 'matchmaker', Mother."

"But, Deanna…"

"Mother, give Billy Bob and Kestra a few years before you try to get them engaged. Let them play together. Grow up together." Deanna picked up her drink and drank it all down, not bothering to savor the flavor. She was with her mother, after all. Then Deanna thought for a moment before she added, "And then you can maneuver Billy Bob and Kestra as you will. I wouldn't mind if Kestra did marry a Picard. They are our dear friends and they are a noble family, too, which should settle and arguments that might arise from some of our family or council members."

"What?" Lwaxana squeaked.

"Kestra one day will be smart enough and well-balanced enough to know what she will want. And if Billy Bob is what she wants, well, it wouldn't hurt her too much to have a little grandmotherly advice…"

"What?" Lwaxana squealed, as this attitude of her daughter, seemed to be the exact opposite of what Deanna had complained about, since her teenage years.

"Mother, now that you no longer have me in your target sights after I married Will and had a baby, I eventually came to see the possibilities of your point of view. However, that doesn't mean that I liked it then or now. But I can see how it could become advantageous for my daughter." Deanna filled up her own sherry glass with whiskey and drank down another round. "Of course, if Kestra is anything like her father, she will be more stubborn than me. It will be a long, drawn out battle."

"Oh, how I relish this challenge with you by my side, my beloved daughter."

"Mother, when did I ever say that I would be on your side?"

Lwaxana thought that her daughter was teasing her.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"What was you mother talking about," Will carefully asked his wife. Will could tell that she was still 'steaming' over something that her mother had said. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on around him with Lwaxana, but he knew that his wife was part of it.

"Oh, Mother is planning our future for us," Deanna mumbled into her husband's hirsute chest. Miraculously, Lwaxana's teething remedy that Dr. Selar had provided, seemed to be working. Kestra hadn't wailed once over the past twenty minutes. Deanna was actually looking forward to getting four or five hours of uninterrupted sleep. She pulled the bed covers up over both of them and snuggled some more.

"What?"

The way Will spoke with the word rumbling across his chest, warned Deanna that her husband wasn't quite ready for bed after hearing her statement about Lwaxana.

"Oh, Mother wants you to become a rear admiral, right away."

"Starfleet doesn't work like that…" Will's voice trailed off when he remembered to whom Lwaxana was married.

"Don't worry. I convinced her not to try…"

"This week," Will just had to add because he was beginning to learn a lot about the way Lwaxana operated.

"Oh, you'll get a couple of years at least, as captain of the Enterprise, Will." She patted his chest. "Mother doesn't quite control Winston so well that she can dictate whom he promotes."

"I would put nothing past your mother, Deanna."

"Don't worry about this, now, Will. Besides, if Mother is really serious, I can have a little talk with Winston. The Fleet Admiral seems to like me. And, after all the maneuvers that Jean-Luc went through to leave the Enterprise in such good hands, Winston is not going to want to have to battle for a new choice for her captain.

"Your Mother is a very determined lady."

"But Will, we have Kestra. And I can arrange for Mr. Homm not to be around when my Mother babysits…"

He had to think about what his wife had just said before he remarked, "You are even more evil than your Mother, Imzadi. And that is really saying something about your level of deviousness."

"I do try, Imzadi," Deanna giggled against her husband's neck before she started nibbling on his neck.

"Oh, Deanna," Will sighed as he reached down to stay her actions. Will kissed Deanna's forehead. "Much as I would love to make love to you tonight, I am just too exhausted.

Deanna knew that if she were persistent, she could persuade her husband otherwise. But she also sensed his deep exhaustion. With a kiss to his shoulder, she snuggled even closer, and then whispered, "Sleep, my love. Sleep…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Worf had had a mental debate with himself, ever since he had learned of Geordi and Data's encryption program. He was conflicted about what it was that was the honorable thing for him to do. And after hours of battling Borg on the Holodeck as well as practicing a variety of forms of Klingon and Russian meditation which his mother had taught him long ago, the Klingon encrypted a short private message to his Cha'DIch, and included it with all the other messages from the captain to the First Officer to the Chief of Engineering, before sending it all off to Admiral Jean-Luc Picard.

TBC


	62. Planning Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few step closer to the end.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 62: Planning Ahead

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I think I know that," Kathryn commented as she entered her husband's office on the lower level of the business side of Picard House. She glanced about, realizing that this was the first time she had actually been inside this particular private office.

There was music softly playing in the background. Kathryn closed her eyes and listened to the music a while before she recognized the piece. "It's an unusual arrangement of the Passacaglia…"

"By Buxtehude," Jean-Luc automatically interrupted as he still kept his gaze glued to his viewscreen, somewhat dismissing his wife's presence as the puzzle on his view screen was occupying all of his attention.

"And what, pray tell, is more interesting than your wife and the mother of your daughter?" Kathryn teased as she came over to stand by the left side of his chair. She didn't mind her husband's absentminded interruption for she was completely familiar with and understood her husband's former-captainly obsession with fascinating puzzles.

"This music," he honestly answered, shrugging his shoulders a little bit as he ruefully recognized what he had just done to his wife and sent her a silent apology. He was gratefully that she was an understanding kindred soul. "Data sent this to me thinking that I might find this arrangement intriguing."

She glanced down at the screen before skeptically querying, "Which is why you arescanning it with one of B'Elanna's decryption programs?"

Jean-Luc silently gave his wife another private kudo. She didn't miss very much. "Yes. A while back, Geordi told me that he and B'Elanna were working on a private communication network based on one of your Voyager's sub-rosa crew communication's networks." He still kept looking at the screen. "Apparently, Mr. Data became involved too, and this new encryption/decryption program is the result." He finally gave his full attention to his wife, since she had determinedly worked her way into a sitting position on his lap. He now could not ignore Kathryn if he tried, so he chose to accommodate her. Smiling, he put his arms around her waist and lightly squeezed. He could not recall doing this before with this wife in his office.

"Comfy?" he teased, as he placed a quick kiss onto the back of her neck.

She wiggled a little and then found the most comfortable position. "I'll have to sit on your lap a few more times before I make up my mind," she informed her husband with a low, throaty sounding purr.

Surprised by her seductive attitude, Jean-Luc chose his next words very carefully. "Surely it's too soon?" for they were barely at three weeks since the birth of Gigi.

"Kate Pulaski gave me a clean bill of health this morning," she whispered against his cheek before she nuzzled him.

"Oh." Still, Jean-Luc was surprised by her actions since he had somewhat assumed that Kathryn would wish to join Chakotay as soon as she was able to do so.

"Chakotay is not ready?" Jean-Luc hoped he wasn't blushing.

She pushed herself a little bit away from her husband's chest. "Chakotay is not one hundred percent, or so I've been told, but I have been reassured by Dr. Pulaski in somewhat graphic terms, that he is capable of having a physical relationship with me if I so wish it."

She could see the confusion on her husband's face as she gazed at him, and then gently stroked his cheek. "Jean-Luc, what I feel for you and what I feel for Chakotay, are two different kinds of love. I am not willing to give you up. At least, not now, now that we have a daughter." Still sensing his puzzlement, she added, "Can you live with that?"

"Of course." He studied her face for a moment before he added, "But I must admit that I am confused."

"It's simple. Jean-Luc." She smiled with great fondness at her momentarily clueless husband. "I'm not ready to become someone else's wife, just yet. I'm still trying to adjust to the idea that I am your wife as well as a mother now, much less anything more."

Jean-Luc could only think of one thing to do so he kissed his wife.

When Kathryn finally came up gasping for air, all she said was, "Did you know that there is a private message for you attached to the music?"

"I must be losing my touch as a lover, if that is the first thing that you say to me after my kissing you, Kathryn," he remarked with just a touch of amusement. "And yes, I did notice the message. It's from Worf – a list of ship's names and nothing more. But Beverly's ship, the K'Tosh, is included on that list."

"What does the list signify?" For Kathryn was now curious too, her mind racing with possibilities.

"I don't know for I was so pleasurably distracted before I could check the list out, Kathryn."

She laughed as she draped an arm about his neck, and then hugged him. "Well, let's do it now."

He just looked at her for a long moment and considered his current physical condition, before he queried, "Now? Really?"

"The sooner we know what it is, the quicker we can leave this office," she acerbically answered.

His answer was to bring the list of ship's names up onto his desk screen.

"Computer, what is the status of the Betazed ship Janara III?" Kathryn asked as if she were taking over her husband's investigation.

Jean-Luc let her do it for he knew better than to tell her not to do it. Besides, in some ways, she could focus on a problem more swiftly and accurately than he could.

"Janara III. Status: missing, presumed lost, three years, four months and one week ago. Betazed crew of fourteen, presumed lost, declared legally dead four months and one week ago," the computer voice (which was a replica of Captain Picard's Enterprise computer voice) informed Admiral Janeway.

Four missing ship reports later, Janeway simply asked, "Did you notice that each of the six ships about which we inquired, including the K'Tosh, all were mainly manned by members of telepathic races?"

Grimly, Jean-Luc nodded. "That's must be what Worf is cryptically trying to tell me. Beverly may not have been the reason as to why her ship had disappeared." He looked away. "The Enterprise must have uncovered some new information about Beverly, and Captain Riker and his officers have been ordered not to discuss this matter with me. That order was probably commanded by Winston Holt Wiley."

She rested her hand on his chest, in empathy. "Maybe in time, you will get some closure, Jean-Luc. Captain Riker will be here in less than two days. You should finally get some answers from him."

"Odds are that Riker is under orders too, Kathryn." He gave her a brief smile. "You just had to investigate, didn't you, Kathryn?"

She nodded, "My mistake." She paused, studied her husband's face, and then softly asked, "If Commander Worf was under orders…"

"I'm his Cha'DIch, Kathryn. Worf was of two minds; torn between his oath to Starfleet and his blood oath to me." Jean-Luc chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to come up with some sort of punishment for the commander, since if Worf was under orders, he did disobey them."

"Shall we discuss this matter as well as punishment, elsewhere?"

"Kathryn, you're impossible," he answered back, as he steadied her when she scooted off his lap before standing up himself.

"Jean-Luc you are not the first admiral to tell me that I am impossible…"

"Kathryn, I am sure that I won't be the last, either…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn knew just exactly where to find Chakotay at sunset. The hill with the lookout bench was his preferred spot. When Chakotay climbed the hill now, he no longer needed his hover chair. He used a cane when necessary.

The former first officer didn't have to turn his head to learn the identity of the person walking up the path. He simply knew. "Come to ask me why I didn't show up for dinner?"

"No, Ral told me that the twins had requested a barbeque for dinner, so the odds were pretty good that they were sharing it with you." She linked her arm with his, and turned toward the sunset as well.

"Add Ryllis, Amelyss, Phrynne and two babies who squalled in tandem, every now and then, and that pretty much describes who was at the party." He chuckled. "I'm surprised that you and Jean-Luc weren't included."

Not that he could see her pinking with the glow from the sunset, but Chakotay would swear on his ancestral spirits, that Kathryn was blushing.

Her voice revealed nothing as she answered him. "Jean-Luc and I had some things to do including analyze a report from the Enterprise."

Chakotay wisely decided not to inquire about the other things that Kathryn had done with her husband.

"I didn't know that Jean-Luc's former officers kept him informed about the Enterprise missions," Chakotay casually inquired.

Kathryn actually laughed out loud. "Oh, Commander LaForge got together with B'Elanna. She helped him concoct an unofficial communication program for Jean-Luc and his friends similar to the Voyager gossip program."

"Well, considering that Star Fleet has yet to discover much less decipher Tom Paris' betting programs, much less the gossip communications, I can understand why Commander LaForge would contact B'Elanna."

"That's probably true. Then Commander Data got involved, and the result is a program that B'Elanna is now cursing because Data has one-upped her on the security of her programming."

Chakotay chuckled. "Now, B'Elanna is going to try to one-up Commander Data."

"And the universe will be a better place because of their efforts," Kathryn replied. She looked away from Chakotay for a moment and toward the gardens. "There are still a lot of unanswered questions about what happened here, Chakotay. And Jean-Luc is conducting his own unofficial investigation."

"Along with your help?"

"Chakotay, I'm a little busy right now, with Gigi. When Jean-Luc wishes me to become involved, he will ask me."

Chakotay suspiciously eyed his former captain. "Kathryn, I know you too well. You're up to your eyeballs in it already, aren't you – with or without Jean-Luc's official consent."

"You know me too well," she pleasantly agreed. She then hugged him. "Speaking of other matters, Chakotay, we need to set a wedding date…"

If wasn't often that Kathryn could surprise him. This time she succeeded.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Deanna!" Jean-Luc was pleasantly surprised to have Deanna answer his call to the captain's quarters on board the Enterprise, instead of Will.

"Will's asleep, Jean-Luc," Deanna whispered.

He nodded in understanding. "I can remember those nights before arriving to face the big brass. I did not get that much sleep then, as well."

"What can I do for you, Jean-Luc?"

He paused for a moment to silently admire how lovely Deanna looked in an amethyst caftan. "Deanna, I believe that the Enterprise is due in this Sunday?"

"Yes, we should arrive Sunday morning, FST." She smiled as if she had just read his mind. "What time is the baby shower? That's why you're calling isn't it?"

He smiled back. "We probably could get around to throwing a baby shower as well. Actually, Kathryn and I will be throwing a party next Thursday night. Please ask all of my senior staff to come to Picard House about seventeen hundred hours. It will be a dinner rather than a barbeque, for our family and friends. We can then do more plotting after dinner, about as to when to hold the baby shower."

"I'd be delighted to inform everyone for you, Jean-Luc." She sent him a dazzling smile before adding, "You do know that my Mother will be coming…"

"That is always a given with your mother and Winnie, Deanna, my dear."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Gretchen found her daughter rocking her granddaughter, in the nursery. Kathryn was nursing Gigi. But still, she looked pensive to her mother, instead of displaying the peaceful Madonna-like image with which Gretchen was more familiar. Kathryn was clearly troubled.

Gretchen sat on the golden oak rocker right next to her daughter's rocker and watched her granddaughter nurse.

"What is troubling you, Katie?"

"We are doing the three-way marriage next Thursday, Mother."

"Isn't that rather soon?" Gretchen tried to hide her obvious concern at this seemingly sudden decision.

Kathryn shook her head, slightly. "No. Not really, Mother. It turns out that the sooner that we have the Denobulan marriage, the better."

Gretchen sensed that there were some things that her daughter had left unsaid. She leaned forward and touched Kathryn's arm. "What is it?"

Kathryn finally turned her head to face her mother. "There is a possibility that the Enterprise has uncovered a real clue as to what had happened to Beverly. It's the first real lead that Jean-Luc has had since Beverly originally disappeared."

"I see." Gretchen rocked in silence, matching her daughter's rhythm, for quite a few minutes before adding, "The sooner, the better then, that you marry."

There was silence for a while.

"Why?" Kathryn finally asked, even as she raised Gigi up, rested her daughter on her shoulder, and patted her back. The girl finally gave a most definitive burp before Kathryn rose to place her on her back in the crib.

"Because if this is a bona fide lead, you know that Jean-Luc is going to investigate it."

"We both will investigate the lead," Kathryn countered her mother.

"Of course, Katie. Of course." Gretchen refrained from patting her daughter's shoulder as they both returned to their rocking chairs. "But what if Jean-Luc doesn't want you with him?"

Kathryn glared at her mother. "Jean-Luc knows better than to ask that of me." She glanced away from her mother's too discerning glare.

Gretchen slowly nodded, comprehending all of the possibilities and their implications. "Yes, the wedding should proceed as quickly as possible." She paused before asked, "I presume that Chakotay is accepting of all of this?" Kathryn nodded. "Well then, Mildred and I will pull everything together in just a week, which is more time than you gave us to prepare for your first wedding. Fortunately, Mildred and I already have everything planned. Chef Ral has even got your wedding cake ready in stasis. All that your pastry chef has to do is finish off the decorating." On her daughter's surprised look, Gretchen added, "And yes, the top two layers are praline pecan filled. It may be a bit too sweet with the buttercream icing under a fondant sculpted shell, but I don't think that Chakotay will object too much. It is sweet."

Kathryn was bemused by how much her mother and Mildred had done. "Are there any decisions left, that you haven't made for me?"

Gretchen laughed. "Don't be a silly, Katie. I've got a nice long list of flowers that are available from which you can pick. And I am sure that you and Jean-Luc can decide on the wines from the cellar." Gretchen stood, and automatically dusted off her skirt, a habit which she had acquired a long time ago. She added, "And Phoebe picked out a selection of wedding dresses for you weeks ago – unless you're wearing your dress uniform again." Kathryn shook her head in denial. "You just have to pick one." She patted her daughter's arm. "Come along, Katie. If the wedding is in seven days, we have to send out the invitations today. So, corral Jean-Luc if you can, as well as Chakotay, and meet me in the library."

Kathryn decided that there really wasn't anything else that she could do, other than to follow her mother's orders.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Will stirred in his bed, and then rolled onto his left side toward the warmth that was his wife. He opened his eyes, and even though the lighting was set at ten percent, he could see that his wife was awake.

"What is it, Imzadi?" he whispered, for he had no inclination to speak loud enough to wake a miraculously sleeping baby.

Deanna rolled onto her side, ignoring the disarray of her Grecian style negligee.

Will took in the sight though, with all of its intriguing shadows and highlighted glimpses of satiny skin. He appreciated the picture that his wife presented as his body was trying to decide if he could physically accept Deanna's silent invitation.

"Will, I think that Admiral Picard suspects something." Her voice sounded worried and concerned about the wellbeing of her friend.

Will slowly nodded. "I was afraid of that. The sub-rosa communique that we sent to Jean-Luc was fairly vague and ambiguous…"

"But Jean-Luc is not."

"Do you think I should call Admiral Wiley?"

Deanna raised herself up on her right arm and looked down at her husband. "I'll know more when I meet with Jean-Luc in person, Will. If he does suspect something, I should be able to sense it." She lowered herself back down onto the mattress but much closer to her husband than before. "And maybe I should talk to Mother. In some ways, she 'read' Jean-Luc far better than I ever did." And with that, Deanna rolled over on top of husband. It had been a while since she had made love to her husband. And her husband was still tired enough to let Deanna do almost all the work.

TBC


	63. Finishing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn and Chakotay go on their honeymoon. Gretchen begins to understand her first son-in-law.

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 63:

Finishing Up

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The isle of Santorini was gorgeous. When Kathryn occasionally got a chance to stick her nose out of the door, she was impressed by all the beauty that she could see. The azure sea, the turquoise sky, the marshmallow clouds, the dramatic cliffs with their narrow pathways trailing past the incredible bursts of color from the flowers that seemed to overflow from every structure in sight. Mildred's private get-a-way was indeed a glorious place to be for a short, but intense honeymoon.

But then she would feel the touch of her husband's hand tugging on her robe's cord so that he could remind her of other things that were glorious. Then she would shut the door that overlooked the isolated view and return to the man that she had loved for oh, so many years. And now, at least in this private place, she could give free expression to her feelings, telling and showing this man just how much she loved him.

Through it all, Chakotay simply worshipped his Kathryn. For he always had and always would worship her, even when he was furious with her - and she with him. For a brief moment, he idly wondered if Kathryn had ever been furious with Jean-Luc, not that he intended to question her about her feelings for her other husband. Both Jean-Luc and Chakotay had decided to keep their private lives with Kathryn, private. For both men thought that this was the only way to maintain their mutual sanity and harmony.

A long-time later, Kathryn sighed as she carried a large red pottery bowl filled with cut fruit out onto the small patio, and sat it on to a wrought iron café table. Chakotay had already placed a pitcher filled with iced tea and tall glasses on the table. He trailed behind her and caught the sigh. Nodding toward the glasses, he asked, "You would have preferred sangria?"

She shook her head. "Mildred's recipe is pretty potent. Let's drink it tonight." She turned around and took the large platter of pita, olives, and cheeses from him, placing it down on a side of the round table. "We have to make at least one shopping trip to the market to get gifts for the kids. Otherwise, I cannot imagine what Mildred's servants will tell the lady."

"I hadn't seen any servants lurking," Chakotay admitted, as he focused on the only person who would capture his attention during their honeymoon. He moved a step closer, placing a small jug of olive oil on the table, before wrapping his arms around Kathryn's waist.

"You had your mind on other things," she teased, as she willingly moved herself even closer to his chest.

"Always," he whispered against her cheek before he gave her a light kiss. Then he stepped away from her and sat down on a sturdy cast iron armchair. "But first, let's eat." He smiled as Kathryn joined him. "Maybe we can find some quaint place for dinner."

"Chakotay," she warned. "I do not doubt that the only functioning replicators on this island are the ones in this kitchen. You'd be facing eating real fish…"

He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a slight kiss on her knuckles. "Kathryn, I am sure that they can do something with seaweed. And if not, there is always bread, olives, cheese and olive oil." He grinned as he picked up a dark brown, juicy-looking pitted Kalamata. "I think I could spend the rest of my life eating this kind of food," he reported as he ate his olive in one bite.

She lightly swatted at him before reaching for a piece of bread to dip into the olive oil and then presenting it to his lips for a nibble.

After he finished off the bread, he warned, "Kathryn, we'll never make it out of here if you keep doing that…"

Kathryn reached for another piece of pita.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc Picard did not quite know what to do with himself. Having free time on his hands was actually a fairly infrequent occurrence. As a captain, he always had something to do on board the Enterprise, as was his case as the Academy Superintendent. Though so far, Woody Nakamura had yet to call him about any urgent, much less any other type of Academy business though Woody had left a comment about a green goat terrorizing a Bolian cadet.

The twins were happily ensconced with Marie and Robert, no doubt pestering their cousin to death with 'why's?'. He also did not doubt that Q would turn up sooner or later to console himself with the twins and tempt them into doing something naughty with or without Jean-Luc's permission.

So, Jean-Luc was puttering. Every single padd on his desk had been read and been properly dealt with. Every single item on his 'to do' list had been done including finally returning his tailor's calls. He had personally inspected his wine vault, turning all the sherry, port and amontillado bottles that needed to be quarter-turned. He had checked the wine inventories, ascribing all the missing cases to his Continuum nemesis, or Lwaxana; whichever had come first. (It had been a while since Jean-Luc had checked his inventories though he didn't really care too much about the disappearing cases, though the missing numbers were somewhat surprising.)

When he found himself double-checking alphabetization of his library's contents by subject matter, he threw up his hands in disgust with himself. Jean-Luc knew then that he had to acknowledge it to himself. He missed Kathryn.

There was a sound as the library pocket door started to slide open.

"Mildred?" he called out behind his back.

"No," a soft feminine voice answered back.

He stood and suddenly found himself embraced by a sturdy young woman with a most definite crushing hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," the lady sniffed. And then she kissed his cheek before releasing him. "The Steinway… That is the most magnificent, most thoughtful present that anyone has ever given me." Branislava pinked as she stepped away from the admiral, stumbling over her words. "That is, other than my family, that is…

"That piano deserved the best of masters, and after careful consideration, I decided that you were it." He motioned toward the couch. As the brand-new lieutenant j.g. sat down on the leather antique, Jean-Luc casually asked, "Are you on duty?" She shook her head in denial. "Then, would you care for some brandy?"

She nodded.

He walked over to his cellarette and poured two short shots into two snifters. As he handed the crystal goblet to the tall lady, he added, "Actually, after all the years of brilliant performances that you played on the Steinway, I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else playing on her, after hearing you perform."

She blushed. "Maybe in a few years, I will come back to Earth and continue my piano lessons with Billy Bob and Anna. I, uh, checked out the Bosendorfer. It's an excellent substitute for the Steinway." She swirled the brandy about in order to warm it on her palm. "Actually, after all these years, I have learned so much from you – and others – that I know that I really owe you, Admiral. You took a raw engineering nerdish cadet and taught her how to be a real Starfleet officer, and have a family, and how to fit in…" She took a tiny sip of her drink, before confessing, "Especially since I started out as Wesley's bully…"

"I was well aware of some of your original annoyance with Wesley and your justification considering the lad's misdeeds, somewhat. Befriending you was a way to help Wesley recover, at first." Jean-Luc warmly smiled. "And then, you became so much more." He took a sip of his brandy. "Unfortunately for me, the Enterprise is a lady who demands only the best. And you are it. And so, you must go to your superior posting. You will be missed, Bronislawa."

She warmly smiled. "I will miss it here, too. And someday, I will return. This is 'home' after all…" She took a deep breath as if she were trying to resolve some internal debate.

After a moment of silence, Jean-Luc asked, "What is it, Brawny?"

Her eyes widened at the use of this nickname, for she had never heard him say it out loud before. As if this decided the matter, she took a quick sip of brandy and then put the glass back down on the table. "I've only been on board the Enterprise a few days. And maybe, it is my over-active imagination, but there are times that Mr. Data and Commander LaForge don't seem to want me to be around them when they are working in engineering." She nervously looked away from him. "And Wesley only seems to speak to me in passing. I normally would have passed this off as my nervous Nelly jitters, but then Ludvig said something to me…"

Intrigued, Jean-Luc leaned forward, "What?"

"That Captain Riker didn't really seem to have time to speak to his personal chef. Other than Captain Riker asking us how we liked our quarters and your remarkable gift, the captain seems to keep ducking a conversation with Ludvig." She nervously laughed. "I know that it is difficult to get away from Ludvig when he starts talking, especially if it is about the supremacy of his barbecue sauces, but it almost seems as if all of the senior officers don't wish to chit-chat with us." She nervously took another sip of her brandy, deciding that she liked the fruity, smooth liquid.

Jean-Luc slowly nodded. "I do believe you, Brawny. Will and Deanna have only briefly replied to my calls. They keep citing their duties as to why they can't talk with me just yet." He finished off his brandy. "I had sort-of noticed that my former senior staff was keeping their distance at the wedding."

"That was a somewhat disconcerting, unexpected event," she quickly stated for she had seen some of the expressions on the guest's faces. "Not that it wasn't a beautiful ceremony. Admiral Kathryn was stunning in that aqua gown. You weren't so bad looking yourself in your evening suit. And after getting to know Chakotay, there are those of us that do consider a three-way marriage to be a practical solution."

Jean-Luc warmly smiled at his former cadet. "Yes, it did seem to be the logical solution."

Brawny did not have the courage to question the admiral's statement. Though she couldn't help but wonder, just a bit.

"Admiral, I just came by to say 'thank you' for your gift." She stood, straightening out her uniform jacket. "I've got to go pick up my daughter from day care, and then beam back to the ship." She took a step toward the door. "Oh, Ludvig beamed over a couple of dozen of his crème brulee set in stasis cups. They'll keep for when the twins return, or for when Mrs. Krebs is around. I take it that Ral is working out?"

"He is an excellent chef. You can tell Ludvig that. But he will never be your husband's equal."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Gretchen was the only lady who showed up for dinner. Deciding that it was a nice night, Jean-Luc had arranged for their repast to be served out on the terrace.

For a while, Gretchen tried ordinary, polite conversation, but Jean-Luc only barely responded with monosyllabic answers.

"And, how are you?" Gretchen amiably asked her dinner companion. "Come to think of it, I think that this is the first time we are dining alone. Usually Mildred or Ryllis are chatting away as we dine." She dipped a silver spoon into her beef consommé.

Jean-Luc had to force himself to be polite. Not choosing to eat dinner in his office had been a mistake. "I am… fine, Gretchen."

"Yeah, right," the lady observed.

"What?" Jean-Luc was somewhat startled that the lady had responded out loud.

"You are no more 'right' than I am, Jean-Luc Picard." Her spoon clattered against the bone china consommé cup's saucer. "You miss Kathryn," she firmly announced.

"You would expect otherwise from me?" Jean-Luc countered trying not to sound perturbed by Gretchen's nosiness.

"Frankly, I have been trying to figure out what to expect from you since the day I was dragged to LaBarre and found out that you had married Kathryn."

Jean-Luc pushed his consommé cup away from him. "I am not hungry," he announced.

Gretchen stood, walked over to him and kissed the top of his head.

This somewhat startled the good admiral.

"You are a good man, Jean-Luc Picard. And, I fear, that you have too much of a conscience for your own good."

"What?"

"Finish your dinner, Jean-Luc. I won't harangue you anymore," Gretchen sweetly answered as she patted his shoulder forcing him to remain seated and then returned to her chair. "You're a dear man to me, as well," she added as if to further confuse her son-in-law. Knowing that she had flummoxed him again, Mildred returned to eating her dinner.

After dinner, Jean-Luc politely wished Gretchen a good night though there was a part of his soul that was wishing her to perdition. His mother-in-law was rather unpredictable, and far too perceptive at times.

"Going baby watching?" she teased as she knew that it was his habit to visit Gigi and Kol in the evening.

He paused at the family dining room doorway and looked back at her. "I'll read to them if they are awake. If they are sleeping, then I just like to sit there and watch them breathe."

"And if they are fussy, which they usually do in unison, we both can comfort a baby apiece, so I am joining you Jean-Luc." She rose from her chair, and linked her arm through his. "And if you do end up telling fairy tales, I don't mind listening. You have the most marvelous story telling voice, Jean-Luc. You really should have been a kindergarten teacher." She then patted his shoulder again, pretending not to notice his expression over that pronouncement.

As they walked toward the nursery, Jean-Luc tartly observed, "You know, Gretchen, there were times during my life as a Starfleet captain, when I distinctly recall dealing with sometimes five-year-olds."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn was cuddling with Chakotay, gazing into the darkness, looking at the few stars that were visible through the open window. Chakotay was comfortably snoring by her shoulder so she really wasn't inclined to do anything to disturb her husband.

Her husband…, she mused. Which one? Even though Kathryn always projected an image of cool confidence, she had never ever imagined herself in this situation before – two husbands. Two men that she actually loved at the same time. It was disconcerting. How ever did she find herself in such a mess? In her heart-of-hearts, she loved Chakotay, purely and simply. But Jean-Luc had been there when she had needed him, desperately. And though she knew that she would always have Chakotay… who would Jean-Luc have? For she knew, deep inside…

Kathryn mentally stopped as she considered just exactly what she knew that was deep down inside. He had made his choices. Jean-Luc had encouraged this union…

Kathryn knew that there was something – something of significance - but as of yet, she had not quite pinpointed what was bugging her about Jean-Luc's overall attitude.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Mildred stared at her guest in her Academy office. Guinan crossed her legs, adjusted her ombre rust to burgundy robes about her body, and then politely smiled back at Mildred.

"How bad is it?" Mildred grumbled as she poured out two double-shots of bourbon from an ancient bottle that bore the label "Pappy Van Winkle".

"Lwaxana is helping me plot out a strategy on how to deal with Jean-Luc."

Mildred thoughtfully nodded as she shoved one of the drinks in Guinan's direction. "Well, whatever you do decide to confess, I do recommend that you wear good track shoes. Any way you look at it, you are going to hurt Jean-Luc. I've never known Jean-Luc to get violent, but he might make an exception in your case."

"That's why I didn't stay too long at Kathryn Janeway's wedding to Chakotay. Knowing how Jean-Luc thinks, I didn't want him to think that I was rubbing it in if I had stayed and partied."

"Instead, you gave something to Jean-Luc to ponder as to why anyone associated with the Enterprise, seemed to be ducking his company." Mildred topped off her lowball as she considered Guinan's dilemma. "I still think that Winnie's idea of keeping Jean-Luc out of the loop until the Enterprise is fitted with the transwarp drive, is a good idea. But, Jean-Luc's starting to become suspicious…" Mildred shook her head. "Sooner rather than later, the man is going to figure something out." She drained her glass and then slammed the glass onto her desk top. "We're going to have to tell him." Mildred stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her lavender moiré skirt. "I am going to go and tell Winston what he has to do."

Guinan shook her head. "No, I've got to tell Jean-Luc."

"No. Winnie has to take responsibility for his decision to keep Jean-Luc out of the loop when it came to Beverly." She picked up the bourbon bottle and shoved it toward Guinan. "You might as well have this. It's probably the last bottle in existence, and I don't want to have to worry about Winnie getting his hands on it. You'll find a better use for it; a better companion to share it with and I don't mean Q." With that, Mildred left her office.

Guinan picked up the half-empty bottle and slowly nodded, not disagreeing with the notion that Q did not deserve to indulge in a bottle of superior bourbon distilled in the 20th century.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn slowly walked around the bedroom, double checking to see if they had not packed everything. Of course, Kathryn knew that Mildred's people would return anything that they might have left behind. Still, old habits were hard to break. Finally deciding that she hadn't missed anything, Kathryn walked over to the door, and opened it once again. There was a wistfulness about her that she didn't bother to disguise when Chakotay entered the room, for it was the last moments of their honeymoon.

"All the bags are at the transporter pad." Sensing that his wife was seemingly miles away, Chakotay walked up behind his wife, and lightly hugged her. "I will miss this place, too. We made a lot of memories here…"

She leaned back against his chest. "Yes, we most certainly did. We'll have to sweet-talk Mrs. Krebs into letting us come back here again." She turned in his arms, and smiled up at her husband. And then she quickly kissed him. "Come on, let's go see our babies, my love."

A short walk through the atrium and they arrived at Mildred's personal transporter pad. Kathryn didn't have to idly guess how much clout Mildred had in order to get her hands on a personal transporter, for the transporter was not a common household item on Earth, to put it mildly. She already had learned that Mildred put the fear of the gods into Winston Holt Wiley. So, a private transporter, not to mention a private 'safe' house in the middle of the Aegean Sea, was not that much of a surprise.

After setting the controls, the lovers stepped up onto the platform.

"I loved sharing a honeymoon with you, 'Captain'," Chakotay whispered into Kathryn's ear.

The shimmer of the transporter muted any response that Kathryn might have given.

They rematerialized at Picard House. Chakotay stepped off of the platform, glanced at the controls' chronometer, and recognized that they had arrived just in time for dinner.

Kathryn looked about and was surprised not to see a 'welcome home' party to greet them.

"Computer, where is Gretchen Janeway?"

"Gretchen Janeway is in the nursery," the computer voice dutifully answered.

"And the children?"

"Gigi Picard and Kolopak Chakotay are in the nursery." Kathryn glared at the console, not that her glare would influence the computer, one way or the other. "Anna and William Picard are with the Picards in France, currently visiting Paris. Do you wish a specific location?" the computer asked.

"No, thank you," Kathryn absentmindedly responded as she looked about even as the servobots came to get their luggage. "Where is Admiral Picard?"

"Admiral Picard is in his office…" Kathryn nodded. She was just about to charge up the sloped walkway toward the admiral's private office when the computer continued speaking.

"…at Starfleet Academy," the computer informed.

Kathryn handed Chakotay the bag she had been toting. "Excuse me, my love. I've got something to do."

So, Chakotay stood there, watching as she beamed away, over to the Academy. Sighing, he started walking toward the family section of the house, and was not that surprised to see Gretchen rushing toward him.

"I've got to show you what Jean-Luc's arranged, and all that's been done while you were on your honeymoon," Gretchen rather rapidly spoke as she leaned into hugging her new son-in-law.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Chakotay replied, sotto-voce.

Gretchen kept looking about.

"Kathryn has gone in search of Jean-Luc," Chakotay wryly explained.

"I told that man he should have been here to greet you," Gretchen complained. "Stubborn, stubborn man…"

Chakotay wise refrained from saying anything more about this matter. Instead, he countered with, "And how is Kol? And Gigi?" He stopped walking. "I just realized – they are brother and sister now."

"I think that was part of the point that Kathryn was making when she maneuvered you into marrying her."

Chakotay resumed walking, chuckling over Gretchen's words. "Do you really think that I let Kathryn 'maneuver' me into anything that I didn't want?"

This time it was Gretchen who abruptly stopped walking. "Oh, don't be silly, Chakotay." She patted his chest. "Kathryn only lets you think you out-maneuver her maneuvering. From what I read in her logs, she's been successfully out-maneuvering you for years."

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Believe it or not, this is the penultimate chapter. I have finally reached the end of this novel. And then I will start Beverly's story.


	64. Life Changing Moments

A.N.: Well, the end is almost here. This chapter is much, much longer than usual. So, this chapter, number 64, is the real penultimate chapter, since I had more than a few loose ends to finish off. Hopefully I will succeed in getting to all of them.

And if you feel like it, please write a review or send a kudo. It is the feedback that keeps a writer writing… Live long and prosper...

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 64:

Life Changing Moments

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Even as her white patent sandals click-clacked against the off-white marble floors of the Academy's Administration Building, few would have recognized the mad-as-a-mutant-Deneb-hen, striding with determination toward her goal – her husband's office. Kathryn knew that he had specifically picked his Academy office as their confrontation place, counting on the fact that this was a Starfleet building in which he would make his stand. He was presuming that she would not make too big of a scene in such a location.

Hah! Little did he know his wife! The presence of Academy bigwigs, or little-wigs, were not about to constrain Kathryn Janeway's righteous ire. Though she did see the wisdom of keeping their upcoming discussion behind locked doors.

When Kathryn stepped into her husband's outer office, his assistant took one look at the expression on the admiral's face, and wisely decided that she should get some much-needed office supplies from central supply as quickly as possible. She rushed past the admiral, mumbling, "Admiral. Admiral Picard is in his office."

Kathryn already knew that. And after the assistant had left the office, she ordered, "Computer, privacy lock. Authorization, Admiral Kathryn Janeway."

Kathryn didn't wait for the computer to acknowledge the order. Instead she strode toward the inner office door, rushing in as the door slid open. She stopped dead across the threshold making her a picture to behold.

"Kathryn, you're back," Jean-Luc politely stated in rather a cool, calm and unwavering voice as he rose from his desk chair to greet her. He assessed his wife and knew that he would have to tread very carefully during the next few moments. "I trust it was pleasant vacation?" for Jean-Luc was having trouble saying out loud the word 'honeymoon'.

For a moment, Kathryn was almost amused by her husband's opening move. She knew that he was hoping to reduce her proper ire with a silent strategic plea toward Jean-Luc's version of rationality.

"How dare you!" was her counter-move. She said it calmly albeit forcefully.

"What did I dare?" He was the picture of innocence as if he had not a clue as to why his wife was standing in front of him in her scarlet outfit, rather upset.

She glared.

He noted that it was not her most threatening glare; at least, not yet. He slightly shrugged his shoulders as he came from around his desk, to lean against the front edge of his desk. He tugged his admiral's red uniform tunic and then crossed his arms.

"How dare you decide for me what kind of marriage I will have with you!" Kathryn took a step forward. She was not screaming, but there was a definite vigor to her words. And the volume of her voice was rising.

"It is for the best," was his next move.

"Just because you say so!" she countered. Her glare intensified moving up to the next defcon level.

"Kathryn, you love Chakotay in rather the same way and with a similar depth and intensity that I had loved Beverly. I am just giving you what you want."

"Jean-Luc, how dare you presume to know what I feel! Yes, I love Chakotay!" She stepped closer and then thumped him in the middle of his chest with two of her fingers. "But, I love you too!" Thump, thump. "You had no right to decide for me what kind of relationship I will have with you." Thump, thump, thump. "At the very least, we should have discussed it together."

To Jean-Luc's ears, it sounded as if she had lowered her ire a smidgeon. "My becoming a husband-in-name-only is for the best and you know it. My celibacy will eliminate complications." He clasped the thumping fingers and lifted them to his lips for a soft kiss against her knuckles.

She considered his words and what he was not revealing. She deduced, "You moved me out of our bedroom, didn't you!" There was a kiss upon her hand again. And then: thump, thump, thump, thump. Only when she was done thumping did she withdraw her spare hand.

He had not quite expected her to figure things out so quickly, since he had been tracking her movements ever since she had arrived back at Picard House. And he knew that she hadn't been to their old bedroom suite yet. "Yes. Your things are now in Chakotay's suite – the one that Lwaxana and Holt used to use."

"You knew you were going to do this, didn't you, Jean-Luc? From the very first moment when Chakotay got divorced, you came up with this three-way marriage plan knowing you were going to renege; so, you plotted that you were going to cease conjugal relations between us when I joined with Chakotay." She huffed. "This is no three-way marriage, indeed!"

"It was the only logical solution, Kathryn."

"Denying me sex was your only logical solution? That is pure sophistry." she scoffed.

"I could not intrude on your love for Chakotay," he argued back, wondering why she wasn't accepting the gift that he had given her.

She snorted. "You could have asked," she tartly responded. "You could have tried to learn what I want, you know."

"Kathryn…"

She stepped up to him and kissed him lightly on the lips before moving back. "I want you. Still. And Chakotay."

"I can't share you Kathryn. I will always be indebted to you for the birth of our child as well as for the way you saved me, and brought me back to life. But I cannot share you with Chakotay. I am not that noble of a man."

She rolled her eyes at his use of the word 'noble'. "Noble coward, indeed. You didn't even try to figure out a solution with me." Her smile wasn't pretty. "For I do have one or two solutions, but you chose the cowardly path."

He raised his head to steadily look into her eyes assigning her pejorative to her displeasure with his action. "No, I deny any cowardice. I am just being pragmatic."

She scoffed, "I refuse to give you up. That fact is not open for debate."

"Are you sure that Chakotay would want that, Kathryn? I think that he would rather have you to himself, rather than sharing you with me."

She could not deny that possibility. "But still, you should have asked me if I wanted to give you up. And for your information," her fingers started thumping again, "I do not choose to do so. And you cannot make me." She punctuated every syllable with her fingers.

"And you cannot make me make love to you if I do not wish to do so," he argued back. "I am resolute about this."

He really should have known better than to silently challenge her.

Kathryn took a step back, regrouped her thoughts and silently conceded, for now. Besides, she had made her point to her husband.

Then Kathryn Janeway Picard simply smiled.

The smile worried him a bit. "What?"

"Jean-Luc, if you wish to live in your solitary, imaginary little world, I cannot prevent you from doing so. But if you think I will give you up without a 'noble' fight, you are sorely underestimating me."

"I think that Chakotay will persuade you otherwise, Kathryn,"

Her smile softened. "Oh, Jean-Luc…" She stepped closer to him, stared into his hazel eyes for a very long moment, and then softly stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. "All right. We'll do it your way, for now." With that, she grasped his hand, pressed a light kiss against his knuckles, and then dropped his hand.

He missed the warmth of her touch the instant she had let go of his fingers.

"We will see you for dinner," was all that she queried before she turned and exited. She made sure that she sashayed as she walked in a manner that was just a bit over the top, even for her. She did not doubt that he was staring at her ass in her red pants as she swayed her hips. At the outer door, she looked over her shoulder and added, rather sweetly, "Won't we?"

He silently nodded as he suddenly realized some of the possible strategies that Kathryn could use against him.

She didn't grin until the door closed behind her in the corridor. She still had it, for Jean-Luc had definitely been affected by the way she had walked out of the room.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Dinner had been strange. It had been just the four of them – Jean-Luc, Kathryn, Chakotay and Gretchen. Jean-Luc knew that the menu had been planned as a 'welcome home' gesture by Ral for the entrée had been ratatouille, and the dessert had been bourbon praline glazed pecan pie. Jean-Luc did have to admit that the pie was delicious though he only had two bites of it.

The only thing that Kathryn seemed to notice about her husband 'Number One', was that he had not finished off his pie, so she commandeered it for herself, not even bothering to ask if he still wanted it.

Guinan had joined them for dessert, but she too, was behaving somewhat oddly. Guinan wasn't saying very much other than small talk, as she drank her brandy and nibbled on her pie.

When he had asked her how she was doing, her reply had been, "Simply making memories, Jean-Luc. Simply making memories."

Guinan's response worried him, for admitting to making memories was something that she had only done once before to him. And that had been when he had encountered the Borg and had been tortured and converted into Locutus.

Meanwhile, Gretchen had sat through dinner and dessert, with a tendency to bounce on her seat, about everything being said. Jean-Luc didn't even have to stand to get the after-dinner brandy and hard cider (for Chakotay) decanters, for Gretchen had leapt up the moment that Ral had placed the cut crystal snifters on the table. She poured the libations.

Jean-Luc had not really noticed Gretchen being this antsy before, though Kathryn seemed to be acting as if this was typical behavior for her mother. He watched his mother-in-law for a moment before asking, "I received a comm message from Phoebe. She wishes to come for a visit with Scotty. She suggested coming the 14th of next month. We all will still be on family leave so that we can enjoy her visit," he added for Kathryn's benefit. Jean-Luc waited for Kathryn to respond. When she didn't, her mother stepped in.

"That sounds perfect, time wise, for I'll still be here too. I don't have to go back to the academia until the winter semester. I'll contact Pheebs right away and tell her to come," Gretchen cheerfully stated. "Unless I miss my guess, Pheebs wants to be here to help you Kathryn, to pick out your evening gown for the Federation Council's Ball. I have a few ideas of my own too…"

Chakotay stopped mid-forkful of pie. "The Council's Ball?" he croaked. Chakotay was not overly fond of Starfleet or Federation formal functions. There were certain memories associated with the Council's Ball and Alynna Nechayev, that he had never mentioned to his wife.

Jean-Luc hid his smile as he explained, "Yes, Chakotay. I believe that we made some plans for the next upcoming ball. All Starfleet officers holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander or higher, are required to attend if they don't have a believable excuse for not showing up. I have unfortunately, run out of believable exotic excuses. So, if you don't have any other plans you can attend one of the yearly thorns-in-my-side with us."

"Plans?" Kathryn queried, as she finished off Jean-Luc's pie.

"Not that Woody Nakamura can keep a secret," Jean-Luc explained, "but clearly Alynna Nechayev has not heard of our three-way marriage since none of us have been receiving any imperial commands for us to come running to her office."

Gretchen chuckled. "Oh, Woody won't tell Alynna even though he did attend your wedding. Granted, generally if you want your opponent to know certain secrets, you usually do tell Woody. Woody is the best admiral I know for deliberately dissembling information. But this time, Woody won't want to miss the expression on Alynna's face when she finds out about the three of you, so he is keeping his mouth shut. And if the big reveal happens in public, all the better."

Guinan stood, almost as if she was finding the conversation to be a bit on the boring side. "I expect that Winnie will be in contact with you soon, Jean-Luc – probably after the Council's Ball. Then all your Enterprise friends will be able to candidly talk to you again." With that confusing statement, Guinan walked out the French doors onto the patio.

For a moment, Jean-Luc was surprised by Guinan's words, before he rose to go after her.

Gretchen grasped his right forearm, staying him. "No, Jean-Luc. Let her go. Guinan and I have gotten to know each other pretty well over the past few months. If Guinan wanted you to know whatever it is that you've been fussing about, she would have already told you." Gretchen cast a glance sideways toward the doors, before turning her attention back to her son-in-law. "Besides, you will know soon enough."

"Oh?" Jean-Luc politely stated as he sat back down, and then picked up his brandy snifter. "I will?"

"She told you when, Jean-Luc. And Guinan wouldn't have said anything if she were unsure about Winnie releasing your friends from his orders. For I am sure that whatever it is that Winnie is being difficult about, resulted in those orders that your friends are being forced to follow." She smiled at her son-in-law before she accepted a brandy snifter from him.

It was Kathryn who understood what was troubling Jean-Luc. She reached over and clasped his arm. "Your Enterprise officers are doing their duty, Jean-Luc. They aren't betraying you."

"I know that," he answered, almost curtly.

"Your intellect knows that. Your heart does not." Kathryn took a tiny sip of her brandy and then a large sip of her black coffee, before continuing. "Jean-Luc, my Voyager family was forged without a Starfleet Fleet Admiral overlooking my every move. I am also sure that the few of my crew that have left Starfleet, would have told me whatever, if I were in a similar situation such as yours, Jean-Luc. But my active officers? No."

"They would have followed orders, Jean-Luc," Chakotay quietly stated. Seated on the other side of Kathryn, he reached over to touch her hand. "Kathryn taught the Maquis Voyagers the Starfleet way. Out of loyalty to her, they would have followed orders if they had been in the same situation."

Jean-Luc eyed Chakotay, and knew the Commander spoke the truth. "I know that. Still, it is annoying trying to anticipate what is coming,"

Kathryn laughed. "Isn't that the true nature of being a Starfleet Fleet admiral? We all wait around trying to anticipate what Winston Holt Wiley is doing."

"Why don't you ask Katherine Pulaski? Now that she is working back at Starfleet General, she might have heard something," Gretchen suggested. "That lady does have a way of uncovering things…"

At first, Jean-Luc inwardly shuddered at the thought of asking the doctor anything, but then he considered Katherine Pulaski's dogged, sneaky nature and nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of Gretchen's suggestion. "Perhaps I will do just that…" He made a mental note to check the contents of his cellar to verify that there was a good bottle of Aldebaran whiskey down there.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

A few weeks later, Jean-Luc was pleasantly surprised when he came downstairs to discover Wesley serving himself from the breakfast buffet in the sunny yellow morning room. Wesley was wearing khaki shorts and a red casual shirt, so Jean-Luc knew that his stepson was off duty.

"Wesley. Welcome. I didn't know you were coming."

"I didn't know myself," Wesley cheerfully answered as he piled a tall stack of bacon next to his scrambled eggs on a bright yellow buffet plate. "Captain Riker unexpectedly told me I could have three days leave starting this morning. We've been working pretty hard in engineering, and boy, did I need a break. So, I came here. Is that a problem?"

"Never think that, Wesley. This is your home. You are not a guest. So, you must set a good example for the twins when it comes to straightening up your room. Don't program your nanites to do it – or anything else," Jean-Luc teased before he came over to Wesley and squeezed his stepson's shoulder.

"Aye, Sir," Wesley brightly answered back as he tonged a few more biscuits onto his plate.

Then Jean-Luc picked up a buffet plate for himself. "Ral must have known that you were coming, because he normally does not prepare this much food for a breakfast buffet."

"When I sent him the comm message that I was coming, I mentioned that there was the possibility that Geordi and Data might be coming with me. But the transwarp drive gods intervened again. Something fried, there were some readings that made no sense, and Geordi thought that a nacelle might fall off if the Enterprise orbited Mars, so Data deduced that they would come on a different day. Geordi did say he'd try to drop in pretty soon."

"I look forward to interrogating Geordi…" Jean-Luc noticed how Wesley froze for a nanosecond before his stepson resumed a normal manner, so he continued explaining, "…about the transwarp drive."

Jean-Luc placed his breakfast plate with its croissant, fruit and a side bowl of porridge in front of his usual chair. There was an individual teapot with his usual double bergamot Earl Grey to the front of the place setting.

Wesley sat down next to his stepfather, in the position where Kathryn usually sat, before he noted the individual stasis coffeepot at this place setting.

Wesley must have sensed something in Jean-Luc's manner since he commented, "I saw Kathryn swimming as I was coming in. I think that she was helping Commander Chakotay with his aqua-therapy exercises." He poured himself some coffee with cream, and took a gulp before adding, "Admiral Kathryn should be here pretty soon." He took another sip of coffee. Jean-Luc slightly raised an eyebrow. "The Admiral asked me to call her 'Kathryn' but I don't think that I know her well enough to do that. And now, with your marriage to Chakotay, I am a bit uncomfortable about what name to use."

Jean-Luc didn't say anything at first. Over the past few weeks he had pretended not to make note of when Kathryn was in the company of Chakotay. Not that he didn't break down at night to see where his wife was sleeping, since she had had her things moved out of the Fleet Admiral suite to a guest bedroom which just so happened to be located half-way between the two bedrooms of her husbands. In short, so far, his wife had been sleeping in her own room.

"If Kathryn says to use her given name, then do so." He wryly smiled. "I think that after seven years of being 'captained' to death and rarely hearing anyone call her 'Kathryn' on board Voyager, she somewhat enjoys hearing her first name being said out loud – especially by her family."

They ate in companiable silence for a while.

"Jean-Luc, how is Chakotay recovering from his injuries? I mean, he seemed to be moving and walking okay at the wedding. I am familiar with some of those physio therapy machines that are by pool. I have done some of those exercises, and they are demanding, not to mention physically taxing."

"Well. Chakotay has been going to Starfleet Medical for his regular therapy, but Kathryn has been assisting Chakotay with his exercises that Phryne Fisher-Smith-Smyth prescribed for the morning. Ryllis' granddaughter is still here staying with her grandmother, and attending classes. Amelyss has been putting Chakotay through his paces in the evening." Jean-Luc ruefully smiled. "I can still recall what I went through when I was recuperating from being Borg. I do not envy Chakotay his physical torture." Jean-Luc finished off his first cup of tea. "Physically, he is recuperating, and from what I have been told, he should be completely recovered in about three months. Or, less than two months, if Chakotay's determination has anything to say about it.

Wesley made note of the way that his stepfather spoke about his partner. "You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, Wes. I approve of Chakotay. He's the kind of officer you would want to have your back. And if he had not joined the Maquis, I would have seriously considered having him as a senior bridge officer on board the Enterprise. He is also very gentle and good with the twins. They really like him." Jean-Luc added some Scotch orange marmalade to the top of his croissant. "Now, Chakotay and I -we're friends." He looked at his stepson. "Talk to the man. There's a surprising spiritual depth and philosophical bent to the man. We've had some interesting discussions over the past few months, during dinner and afterwards. And Chakotay just might know more about pre-historic proto-Vulcan migration than I do."

Wesley nodded in acceptance as he ate his breakfast with the enthusiasm of a young man who had recently skipped too many meals. "I've got a lot of catching up to do with everyone. I guess I loved being on board ship, but it is good to be back on Earth."

"And away from Betazoid ambassadresses?" Jean-Luc softly asked.

Wes laughed out loud. "She wants me to become a diplomat. I don't think so." He shook his head. "I mean, I liked getting the diplomatic experience, for I did learn a lot, but that is not my passion. He drank down his glass of actual Hawaiian grown pineapple juice before asking, "When are Anna and Billy Bob due back?"

"This afternoon, I believe. Marie and Robert are coming for dinner."

Wesley smiled. "I'll be glad to see them." He ate some more bacon before mentioning, "If the twins are up to it, I'd like to take them to Washington D.C. There's a historical retrospective of a 20th century exhibit at the Air and Space Museum that's filled with rockets."

"Billy Bob." Jean-Luc uttered his son's name, considering Wes' next move. "And for Anna?"

"Trust me, I know that there would be holy hell to pay if I didn't plan something for her, too. I was thinking of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum."

Jean-Luc grinned. "I had noticed that Anna has inherited Beverly's predilection for the love of pretty, shiny things."

"Especially when they are baseball size diamonds, Jean-Luc," a voice from the doorway announced. "I think that you will find that most females of any age, like pretty, shiny things." Jean-Luc arched an eyebrow. "Though in my case I was more interested in their chemical composition and phaser light refractive properties than anything else."

"Oh, so your love of rubies is a scientific thing, Kathryn," Jean-Luc observed.

Kathryn picked a few selections off of the buffet and then sat next to Jean-Luc to face Wesley. "Well yes, and the fact that I wear rubies so well." She gave Wesley one of her warmest smiles. "How long are you staying, Wes?"

"Three days," he answered between mouthfuls. "I was surprised when Captain Riker granted me leave."

"How are Will, Deanna and the baby?" she inquired as she dipped her silver jelly server into a small pot of blueberry jam, spread quite a bit of the jam over a section of her croissant, and then absentmindedly looked about for her coffee pot.

"They are fine. At the start of the mission, Captain Riker was projecting his confident persona for every shift." Wesley grinned as he explained for he knew that Will Riker had been at the Academy when Kathryn Janeway had been there as well. And Captain Riker had told many a tale about Admiral Janeway as a cadet.

"Uh oh," Kathryn mumbled to herself.

Jean-Luc nodded in agreement even as he stood and brought Kathryn the large coffee pot from off the buffet and silently poured her a cup. She nodded her thanks even as she noted her husband's smile.

Wesley caught all the by-play. "But then Captain Riker started to relax in the big chair after their daughter was born. So, the bridge crew began to relax, too. Finally. And as for Deanna, she is reveling in motherhood. And their daughter is so fine and so cute, though you can hear Kestra squalling three decks away when she wants something," Wesley noted even as he started passing the Derby bone china creamer and sugar bowl over to his step-(?)mother.

Kathryn laughed even as she waved him back, declining Wesley's offer. "I don't desecrate my coffee, Wes. Will Riker does, which is one of the reasons as to why I wouldn't date him."

"Can I tell Captain Riker that? He's always claimed that you had no reason to dislike him," Wesley announced with a grin.

She laughed again before nodding. "When Gigi and Kol get to squalling, you can hear them as far away as the beach." She nibbled on her croissant and drank her black coffee before adding, "But my Mother says that we will miss their wailing when they start growing up."

"Yeah, that's true," Wes agreed. "When Anna and Billy Bob grew into the toddler stage, I really missed the passing of their former 'innocence' stage into the controlling stage."

Jean-Luc agreed. "Let us not forget what Anna and Billy Bob did once they grew up enough to learn how to manipulate Q. The panic I felt with Q taking them to Epsilon Draconis II to show them actual living dragons, without bothering to mention the outing to me forever plagues my nightmares. Even if Q made the unforgivable mistake of believing Billy Bob that I had granted them permission to go, I still shudder."

Kathryn smiled, making note that Jean-Luc was still ticked off at Q over that misadventure. She then glanced at the empty chairs before explaining, "Chakotay is taking a nap in the guest house. Phryne changed his morning routine. It's more strenuous now with a lot more weight training, and he is not adjusting to it too well. He will probably sleep until noon." Kathryn glanced toward the door. "And I guess my Mother is sleeping in this morning, too."

"Not really. Gretchen went into the city rather early this morning. I don't know about what," Jean-Luc admitted. "I ran into her when I was coming back from my run and she told me her plans. She said something about meeting someone named 'Baako'."

"Care to make a bet as to whether or not my Mother is looking at evening gowns?" Kathryn laughingly asked.

"That is a sucker's bet, madam. Why I believe I might even throw in the possibility that Marie and Phoebe beamed over to meet Gretchen in order to search for designer gowns."

Kathryn laughed out loud. "You are probably right. My Mother knows that I have little patience for shopping for mundane items. And Baako is a genius of a designer. He designed that black dress I wore to the Admiral's Ball."

Both men slightly grinned in fond remembrance.

Jean-Luc stood, walked over to Kathryn and kissed the top of her head. "You are a rare woman, Kathryn Janeway."

Wesley just grinned at them. Then he thought for a moment. "Jean-Luc, may I run with you tomorrow morning?" Wes asked, even as he covetously eyed a stack of pancakes in stasis on the buffet.

Jean-Luc noticed the direction of Wes' gaze. "Something tells me you'll need it," he teased. He handed the boy (For Wes would forever be 'the Boy' in Jean-Luc's memories) a plate of hot cakes and a pitcher of syrup. "You're just like your mother, Wes. Beverly could eat thousands of calories a day and never gain a kilo…"

"Yeah, I am," Wes whispered, as he appetite suddenly disappeared. He pulled himself together, then looked around. "Where's Krebbie?"

"Right now, she's making Woody's life hell as he temporarily, I believe, takes over at the Academy," Jean-Luc explained. "She's explaining yet one more time, her special rules to him. Then she promises to come back here once Winnie tells me my new assignment. I have a feeling that it concerns Romulans."

Wesley froze for a moment, made a decision and then nodded. "Sir, I can tell you that when we were on Ferenginar, we uncovered evidence that certain groups of Ferengi were dealing with Romulans on a major scale. I don't know all the details, but I gather that the nature of the business relationship with the Romulans is a problem."

"Especially since the Ferengi signed a treaty that specifically banned them from Romulan trade if the Ferengi wished to deal and trade with the Federation," Kathryn added, eyeing Wesley and studying him.

Jean-Luc was not that surprised that Kathryn was current in her knowledge of Romulan situations.

"Were the Ferengi trading with the Romulans to get the trilithium fuel for the transwarp drive?" Kathryn asked even as she poured herself some more black coffee.

"That's part of it," Wesley admitted. "But you'll have to ask Admiral Wiley about the details." With that, Wesley started eating again, as if to ward off any other questions.

Jean-Luc silently studied this man that he viewed as his son and decided that he had asked the boy enough questions, for now.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc enjoyed his early morning run with Wesley. They had talked quite a bit and Wesley was candid about quite a few things including what life was like on board the Enterprise under Will Riker's command. Jean-Luc wisely did not try interrogating Wesley over any sensitive matter. Jean-Luc's goal was not upset his son, for he now knew that whatever was going on would be revealed to him in Admiral Winston Holt Wiley's own good time.

The next few days were good ones with the twins bringing their usual havoc to the house, and with Wesley loving every minute of it. It was obvious to all the adults that Billy Bob and Anna adored their big brother. Their outing was a success especially since Kathryn and Jean-Luc were able to join Wesley on the Washington D.C. trip. Though Anna once again manipulated her older brother into promising to ask Captain Riker to let them visit their Papa's Enterprise. Of course, Wesley agreed.

No, what caused Jean-Luc consternation were two differing things. The first was Mildred's reports and assessments of the interrogation of ex-DaiMon Bok, the assassin and his mercenaries. New information had been uncovered, further conjectures were made, and some questions were settled. But still, not everything was resolved. All of his questions and fears, had not been answered. Jean-Luc did not feel satisfied. And this feeling worried Jean-Luc as well as Kathryn since he had shared the information with his wife.

The second worry was Kathryn herself. Jean-Luc had expected Kathryn to wage a subtle war against him, with her sashaying hips at the top of her feminine wiles weapon's list. But, last night, she had fired a salvo that had sent him into a tizzy. Jean-Luc was not used to having a tizzy, to put it mildly.

For he had found Kathryn in his room when he had retired last night. She was taking a bath, sans bubbles. So quite a few of her beautiful assets were on display when he had entered their bathroom at the sound of her splashing.

"I like this tub better," she had informed her husband. "You don't mind my using it, do you?" she asked in a low, sultry voice.

Of course, he minded. And it took every ounce of his determination for his voice not to croak as he answered her with a "No, of course not" Or, to keep him from joining Kathryn in their spacious tub, for he well remembered the times that they had shared a bath, and all of its pleasurable results.

Now, if Kathryn tried the same stunt again soon, say even tonight, he did not genuinely know if he could resist her.

The two people he knew that knew Kathryn better than herself included Gretchen; but their sex life or lack thereof, was not exactly a subject matter about which Jean-Luc felt comfortable discussing with Kathryn's mother. And as for Chakotay, Jean-Luc knew that maybe the man could shed some insight. But, it was impossible for Jean-Luc to say any words about it to Chakotay.

So now he was faced with the question: could he resist Kathryn?

The truth was, he did not know if he could keep denying Kathryn. Yet, how could he give in to her? He had created this muddle with his noble instincts, and now he was stuck with the situation.

Mildred's only response when she finally mentioned to Jean-Luc during one of their briefing sessions, that she was well aware of what was going on in the Picard household, was that Jean-Luc was only human. And that no one, least of all Chakotay or Kathryn, expected him to be anything else.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lwaxana looked around and inwardly smiled, delighting in the luxuriousness of all the purpleness and pinkness that enveloped her. She really appreciated the ambience of Q's pink cloud hideaway. Her favorite thing especially was the fact that she could drink as much as she wished and never achieve a total state of drunkenness. She seriously thought about asking Q to arrange this semi-inebriated condition for herself on a permanent basis. To be able to drink diplomats under the table at whatever function she attended as an ambassadress would be a very useful asset, indeed. Especially when it came to in vino, veritas.

Guinan glared at Lwaxana as if she had read the lady's thoughts. She sat on a floating heliotrope and pink upholstered recamier, where she spread her dove grey skirts about the lounge cushions, and then she just glared at the ambassadress.

As Lwaxana sipped her umpteenth glass of wine, she returned the glare and then pleasantly asked, "What?"

"We have more important things to discuss than you achieving a perpetual state of snockered bliss."

Lwaxana trilled a small, decidedly artificial laugh. "What is wrong with contemplating pleasantries, even at a time like this?"

Q stomped over a few fuchsia colored clouds, angrily waving his way through rolling silver-pink mists. "Oh, stop it you two. Whiney is going to tell Jean-Luc the truth fairly soon. We have got to decide what to do!"

"We already did that, Q. Or, were you too inebriated to notice?" Guinan too-politely asked, though the trembling of the wings to her trapezoid indicated another emotion.

"Refresh my memory!" he snapped back.

"Whiney tells Jean-Luc the truth," Lwaxana soothingly stated. "Then the three of us go to Jean-Luc when he calms down and fill in all the details that Whiney doesn't know about." She drained her Venetian enameled, Murano glass goblet empty and watched it refill as if by magic before she continued, waving her hand about. "You two confess everything. And then you beg for forgiveness."

Q just stared in disbelief at Lwaxana. "And what, pray tell, are you going to confess, Madam?"

"Why, how I counselled you, of course," Lwaxana sweetly explained.

Q seriously considered turning Lwaxana into an Altarian version of a farting nanny-goat, but decided against it because he had a suspicion that Billy Bob and Anna would not really appreciate this transformation of one of their three favorite godmothers.

Guinan chuckled. Now that they were facing the end of this charade, she was beginning to feel a little bit better since some sort of moral and emotional relief was on the horizon.

TBC


	65. After the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner party, a talk, some gifts and a dance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Guess what? This isn't the final chapter. I realized that I had a bit more story to tell, so rather than keep on delaying it, I decided to keep on writing. And publish this part as a separate chapter.
> 
> I do apologize for the delay in publishing but real life from health issues to the fact that portions of my roof and chimney decided to fly away unfortunately demanded all my attention. At least I am almost back to normal…

DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 65:

After the Ball

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The news that the transwarp drive was successfully installed on board the Enterprise, quickly albeit unofficially spread like star-fire throughout the upper echelons of Starfleet.

Every admiral who needed to know, was sent Starfleet Engineering's official announcement, though most had heard the rumors within minutes of the Enterprise's achievement.

Just about every Starfleet ship's captain knew, and they were anxiously jockeying the names of their ships for a higher placement in the queue of ships who were to be refitted.

Jean-Luc was pleased that Starfleet had succeeded with this warp drive since he well remembered his own experiences with trying to get a form of the drive to function on board the Enterprise.

All things were possible now…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Days later, Jean-Luc wasn't too surprised when Guinan appeared for dinner one night. He had been dreaming about her lately, and to Jean-Luc, that usually was a signal that she was coming – or that something was coming about which she dreamt as well. Jean-Luc had recognized a while back, that on a sub-conscious level, he had some sort of psychic connection to the El Aurian, however tenuous.

Guinan was a pleasant dinner companion, this night. The bitter moods that sometimes overcame her had been banished this evening. During the courses of the dinner silently served by at least one member of Ludvig's immediate family, Guinan questioned Chakotay about meeting his forefathers in the Delta Quadrant, what life had been like on Dorvan, and his connections to his spirit world. But then Gretchen guided the conversation toward discussing the best way for raising children over the after-dinner coffee. cider and brandies. The debate began. It was lively, long, and moderately loud; ably displaying the wit as well as the wisdom of all of the participants - not that anyone truly agreed with anyone else.

Jean-Luc remembered a dinner party with Beverly when they had entertained Will and Deanna. There was a level of marivaudage to that conversation that had so pleased him back then. And tonight's dinner was another occasion of wonderful memories of lively discourse at a dinner party that he would prize.

His life was beginning to feel 'right' again…

It was Guinan who went upstairs to read bedtime stories to the twins, for there wasn't a person at the dinner who did not believe that the twins had not snuck from their beds to hide behind the upper baluster posts in order to eavesdrop. She would meet with Jean-Luc later in the library when her time came.

About an hour later of over-indulging Billy Bob and Anna, she warned them that they might not see her for a while. The twins seemed accepting of this news, as if they understood that their Auntie Guinan had important tasks to do.

Then Guinan went in search of their father. In the library, she noted that he had pulled out a decanter of green whiskey and two shot glasses and had left them sitting on top of the desk. One of the library terrace doors was ajar as well.

Instead of picking up the decanter, Guinan followed Jean-Luc's clue and walked out onto the terrace. But she didn't find him there. Instead, she saw a figure standing near a bench overlooking the beach as the last golden rays of the sun splintered against low-lapping waves. She carefully picked her way down the flag stone steps to trail in Jean-Luc's footsteps.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered as she approached him, walking on the stepping stones that led to the oceanside bench.

"Are you going to tell me anything useful?" he quietly asked. "And don't pretend that you don't know what I mean."

Her smile seemed sad as she answered him. "I will always be your friend, Jean-Luc. The reverse may not be true."

He harrumphed, as if thinking that that would never happen.

She idly questioned him. "You are seeing Winston Holt Wiley the day after the ball?"

"Yes. He wishes to see me at fifteen hundred hours at his office." Her attitude was puzzling him so he turned to face her. "Guinan, why did you come for dinner tonight?"

"Jean-Luc, I wished to see you one last time before then."

"Why?" He watched her as she stepped closer to him, but she did not take a seat on the bench.

"Whiney's words will change things between us." She spoke calmly, soothingly, and as if she were the fount of truth and wisdom.

Jean-Luc usually found this attitude annoying when Guinan used it on him. But tonight, there was something different about the lady. She wasn't annoying him – she was worrying him. It was as if there was an air of fatality about her. "It is that serious?"

"How serious it is will ultimately be up to you."

He inwardly groaned at her confusing, annoying words, even as he noted that the alar ends to her glistening silver hat were trembling, though there was only a gentle breeze this night. "Guinan, have you ever given me a straight answer whenever I have asked you a question?"

There was a glimmer of a smile before she answered him. "No, not too often."

One did not have to be a Betazed to know that he found her answer exasperating.

"Don't you think that it is time you talked to me about whatever this is?"

She turned away from him to gaze at the dying of the light for a moment before she spoke. "I lied to you. And for that sin, I am truly very sorry." She waited for him to say something.

He did not.

"At first as your friend, I thought that I was simply protecting you. That I could fix things without you getting involved. Or hurt." Finally, she turned to look at him. "And for a while, it was true. Things were as I meant them to be – as they were supposed to be. I was able to protect you." She looked away again. "But then, the Borg came thanks to the interference by the Continuum. I didn't realize it then, but that is the moment when everything really changed. And by the time I truly understood what was happening to the time-space-continuum, there was nothing that I could do to prevent what was to come or to stop it from causing you pain." She turned to face him, squarely looking at him. "So, I was forced to lie to you, even as I did everything I could to help shield you and yours."

He accepted every word she said as the truth. But he also judged that he would not be getting all the answers this night. Winston Holt Wiley must be holding quite the dominant hand. "Will you ever be able to freely answer my questions?"

She nodded.

"Then why did you tell me all of this tonight?"

"I want you to remember my words, Jean-Luc. None of what I did was meant to hurt you. It was to safeguard you and yours. To protect you as best as I could. And I still would have made the same choices even if I had to do it all over again in spite of my foreknowledge. I did what was necessary, Jean-Luc. But I could not control all the fates." She surprised him when she reached out to him and hugged him tightly. Then she turned away from him again. "If you wish to see me, I will come."

With that, she disappeared into the quickly rising mists.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn was just beginning to get ready for the Federation Council Ball when Jean-Luc entered her bedroom. He smiled as he observed Phoebe and Gretchen fussing about his wife. Phoebe was wearing some sort of pink floating dress. Gretchen looked regal in a shimmering lilac gown.

"Ladies," he nodded. "May I have a moment with my wife?"

Phoebe eye the grey box that Jean-Luc had in his hands, and blithely answered, "No."

Gretchen disapproved of her daughter's answer. "Phoebe…," she warned.

The younger sister laughed. "Mother, I like seeing pretties too."

Jean-Luc grinned understanding his sister-in-law quite well at this moment. "Only after Kathryn," he commanded as he cast a glance toward the suite door.

Gretchen stood. "Come along, Phoebe. Kathryn needs another dose of caffeine, otherwise she will fall asleep whilst waltzing midst the stuffed dignitaries."

Still laughing, Phoebe left arm-in-arm with her mother.

"Jean-Luc," Kathryn began to apologize.

"I like your sister, Kathryn. And I am very, very grateful of the fact that Phoebe chose to become an artist instead of a Starfleet officer."

Kathryn instinctively shuddered at this thought, even as she pointedly stared at the tooled metal enameled box that Jean-Luc was holding.

"You already gave me that beautiful bracelet after the birth of our daughter, Jean-Luc." He handed the box to her as she was speaking. "You really shouldn't have…," her lips announced. But her laughing eyes said otherwise.

"Marie informed me that Picard men giving jewelry to their wives is a long-standing family tradition. I am just doing my duty to my family."

The lady grinned. "I do approve of your family traditions." Kathryn was no fool as she accepted the box, opened it up and gasped. This magnificent piece of jewelry would complement her ruby necklace. It was a brooch with a large center star ruby, with 12 to 18 cm. lengthy tails of flowing platinum strands inset with channel-set diamonds that seemed to have been lit by star fire, dangling from the lower half of the cabochon's setting.

It was gorgeous.

Perfect.

Kathryn reached over and embraced her husband to give him a passionate kiss. "Thank you, Jean-Luc," she whispered in his ear. Then she leaned back and laughed. "I think we'd better let Mother and Pheebs in now. Bending over to spy through artificial key holes is not good for Mother's back."

Jean-Luc laughed in agreement, even as he went and opened the door. Gretchen was standing there holding a mug of coffee. Phoebe was inspecting the carved oak frame of the door looking like a perfect picture of innocent curiosity. Neither lady fooled Jean-Luc in the slightest, as they entered the bedroom. Kathryn took her cup of black coffee from her mother.

Still smiling, he pulled from his pocket two small gifts. "For my favorite lady-in-laws," he teased as he handed a soft grey velvet pouch to each lady. Both ladies gasped in unison as they untied the pouches to discover ruby and diamond double drop stud earrings within.

"Oh, Jean-Luc, this wasn't necessary," Gretchen scolded even as tears threatened to fill her eyes over her son-in-law's heartfelt gift.

"Yes, it was," Phoebe countered as she immediately put the earrings on and then ran toward a mirror to look at the approximate six carets total of stones that she was now wearing. Each of her earrings had a single cabochon ruby with a solitaire diamond dangling from the base of the ruby's setting.

"You're help has been invaluable ever since I became a member of your family," Jean-Luc explained, even as he pinked a bit over Gretchen's effusive heartfelt thank yous.

"I could use some help now," Kathryn hinted, as she too, wished to examine close-up, the earrings as well.

"Kathryn may need your help in deciding how to wear her gift," Jean-Luc observed as he left the room. He had learned a long time ago that it was never wise to disturb a wife too much when she was getting ready for an important occasion.

"What am I to do with this," Kathryn asked quite merrily as she showed her husband's gift to her family.

"I know exactly what to do with it," Phoebe announced as she expertly eyed the brooch. "I'll say one thing in Jean-Luc's favor," she remarked as she continued to study the ruby with a critical eye. "Your husband has good taste. And lots of credits." She then touched her right ear lobe and fingered the cabochon ruby and faceted diamond earring. Then she eyed her mother's pair of earrings. The equal size stones were mounted in the reverse color pairing to her earrings.

About an hour later, Jean-Luc and Chakotay were cordially gossiping in the library, drinking their cups of tea, when Kathryn made her grand entrance, flanked by Gretchen and Phoebe, all dressed in their evening gowns. For none of the ladies were going to miss the ball this night.

Quickly Jean-Luc and Chakotay placed their tea cups down, stood, and then audibly gasped when they viewed Kathryn Janeway-Picard-Chakotay. She stunned both men into silence for a long moment.

"Baako is a genius," Jean-Luc softly announced as he took a step closer to his wife.

Kathryn slowly turned around not even questioning how Jean-Luc could know much less remember the name of her dress designer which she, herself, kept on forgetting.

Jean-Luc gasped again, this time more loudly. For his gift to Kathryn was pinned to the dove grey velvet plunge resting against the base of his wife's spine. Kathryn's back was bare, with the lines of the dress swooping down to where his gift now rested. The pin was now in a perfect position to draw attention to Kathryn's derriere especially when she swayed and the diamond dangles would sparkle in such a way to capture even more of a viewer's consideration.

When Kathryn was facing her two husbands again, Chakotay devoutly whispered, "Kathryn, you are beautiful."

"My older sister sure does clean up well," Phoebe cheerfully announced.

Jean-Luc hid a smile, even as he nodded in agreement at Phoebe's assessment.

The dress was astonishing. It was a skin-tight silk velvet sheath with a bandeau bodice, until the dress flowed to the knee line. Then it flared just enough to give the wearer ease of movement if the lady cared to dance. Though it was not obvious, the hip high slit to the dress, opened to reveal a ruby red lining to the flaring skirt and short train, whenever Kathryn moved. Kathryn's only other piece of jewelry was the ruby bracelet that matched the pin. The contrast of grey and ruby red was eye-catching in all the right places.

"Magnifique," Jean-Luc whispered as he bent over to kiss his wife's hand with a flourish.

Chakotay knew that he could never succeed in kissing his wife's hand in the way that Jean-Luc could accomplish it, so he didn't even try to compete. He just simply gazed at Kathryn, admiring her with delight.

She bestowed upon this husband a smile with the added lagniappe of a blush.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

She was standing there garbed in her signature ice blue (though the choice of color never really mattered as long as it was icy) gown, near the entrance to the hall where the Federation Council Ball was being held. The moment she saw her quarry, even as she kept an eye on the dance floor with its swirling, dancing partners, she held up and out the palm of her blue silver gloved hand, as she watched with a beady-eyed glare as Mildred Krebs approach. Mildred was dressed in some sort of tasteful silver tissue concoction.

Iced 'something' seemed to be the major color preference of gowns for most of the lady admirals in attendance.

Mildred placed five latinum credits in the palm of this lady's hand. Alynna Nechayev quickly placed the credits inside of her vintage faux gem stone minaudiere.

Mildred stood side by side with Alynna as they watched the dancers flow by.

"When did you figure it out?" Mildred politely inquired.

Alynna inwardly grinned. It was not often that she got the better of Mildred Krebs. "Well, you just knew something was going to happen when the Borg creature foolishly divorced Chakotay," Alynna cited. "And knowing Chakotay…"

"As well as you did…", Mildred politely mentioned referencing Chakotay's past, when he had been Alynna Nechayev's aide for a brief period of time. This admiral might have had more personal plans for the ensign at the time since Alynna had been between husbands during that year.

Alynna ignored the interruption and continued speaking. "…and his penchant for unwavering morality as a young man, Chakotay choosing marriage again was a pretty good bet - or, at least Chakotay getting engaged to Kathryn." She cast a sideways glance toward Mildred.

"In spite of Jean-Luc?"

Alynna chuckled. "Now, that part of their tri-relationship did surprise me. I'd have bet my money that Jean-Luc would have nobly given up his bride to her one true love rather than actually find a compromise."

"Or so this fairy tale goes," Mildred added. "Jean-Luc did his best to surrender his wife solely to her true love." She nodded toward the sight of Kathryn dancing with Jean-Luc. "But Kathryn had other ideas about that. The lady really liked the idea of a ménage a trois."

"Well, considering Kathryn had just survived an enforced celibacy tour of the Delta Quadrant, choosing to have two husbands to lead around is not that surprising. After that kind of drought, I wouldn't have given up either man if I had been given the opportunity," Alynna knowingly added. "I could never have done what Janeway did."

"I take it you mean the drought and not the three-some?"

Alynna ignored Mildred's sarcasm. "As to when I figured it out…" Alynna's eyes narrowed as she watched her husband dance by with Lwaxana. He was holding Lwaxana a wee bit to close, though given that it was Lwaxana, Alynna would always give her husband, John Harriman Nelson, the benefit of the doubt. The admiral turned then raised an eyebrow to gaze down at Mildred. "I knew nine days after Chakotay married Kathryn." She smiled. It was a too-knowing smile. "My husband was invited to a stag poker party by Jean-Luc. Harriman took note that Chakotay was wearing some sort of silver wedding ring and then my dear husband mentioned that fact to me."

"It's platinum," Mildred murmured, not exactly wishing to irritate Alynna by correcting the admiral in front of the nosy bystanders.

"And then I had noticed the double gold and platinum band on Kathryn's hand when I paid a duty call to visit the baby…"

"Ergo." Mildred slightly nodded her head. "You put two and one together and actually came up with three."

"Winston didn't," Alynna just had to add with just a touch of self-satisfaction.

Mildred held her tongue. Her cousin rarely missed such details. If he didn't mention it, it was for his own purposes.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc chuckled.

"Surely my dancing skills are not so awful that you find them funny," Kathryn whispered into her husband's ear as they waltzed about the ball room.

"No." He slightly nodded in Alynna Nechayev's direction. "Mildred has an exasperated expression about her. I think that Alynna correctly guessed about our intriguing relationships sooner than what Mildred had anticipated."

"So, Mildred lost a bet." Kathryn glanced toward the lady. "I am sure that that doesn't happen often."

Jean-Luc dipped his partner in response.

When she was vertical again, Kathryn brushed her hand across the breadth of her husband's shoulder before whispering, "Two magnificent husbands. How did I ever get so lucky…," she whispered, before Jean-Luc stepped aside to let Chakotay cut in and dance with his wife too.

As Jean-Luc walked over to the sidelines in order to stand by Gretchen, this lady nodded toward some admirals before announced, "The old biddies are a-clucking away…"

Jean-Luc's answering smile could only be described as 'polite', with a touch of satisfaction. Then he invited Gretchen to dance.

TBC


End file.
